


March fifteenth

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: There is a number of small things [17]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Avada Kedavra, Birthdays, Canonical Character Death, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Cooking time with Draco and Scorpius, Daddy! Draco, Daddy! Theodore, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy has no friends, Dumbledore Dies, Fear, Fencing, Gen, Harry Potter is a douche bag, Hogwarts, Hurt, June 30th, Lord Voldemort - Freeform, Luckington Manor, Malfoy Manor, March Fifteenth, Marriage Proposal, Oscar Wilde - Freeform, Pain, Parenting is cool, Room of Requirement, Sad Draco Malfoy, Sectusempra, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Tattoos, The Dark Lord - Freeform, Theo's getting fucked in Bali and Draco's slowly dying, Theodore Nott gives no fucks, This hurts, Vanishing Cabinets, We're parents now, french pastries, half blood prince, hello 1998, the fountain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:39:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A birthday is only as special as the ones you share it with. Theodore likes to share his with Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1989

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unkissed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/gifts).



> I apologize for my crappy third person, I am über rusty at it. 
> 
> Anyways, endless adoration to my friend and muse in all things, Unkissed. 
> 
> Happy birthday, Theodore.

There had never been a reason for Draco to give much thought to birthdays beyond his own, but in the spring of 1989, that all changed.

Theodore Nott. Wispy little boy that he was, had come into Draco’s life suddenly one afternoon in the guise of a new playmate. At first Draco was reluctant on accepting Theodore as anything other than an annoyance, although reluctant might not be the proper word. Truth be told, he was hell bent on giving the other boy as many reasons as he could to not return to Malfoy Manor. Draco didn’t need any friends, especially annoying morose ones who spoke ill of him and made him feel terribly inadequate. Of course, being eight years old at the hands of parents who were determined to have him forge a friendship with the Nott boy made it much harder to execute. Every time Draco thought he had sufficiently pushed Theodore far enough that he would never return, the following week there he was. As annoying and frail looking as ever.

Eventually Draco came to terms with the fact that Theodore Nott was not going anywhere. Their fathers’ were business associates of sorts and it didn’t seem to matter how many tantrums he threw, Theodore would always return like clockwork, much to his dismay. Over time,  abhorrence shifted to indifference until it finally began to melt away into something else entirely. Once Draco got used to the idea of having his shortcomings on display every time Theodore was around, he began to liken to the idea. Never in his eight years had he met anyone that made him question himself like Theodore Nott did, and although he would never openly admit it, he liked it.  

For his part Theodore seemed to soften to the idea of Draco’s presence as well, or at least Draco thought he did. Once the silence and the insults and the tantrums faded, they both began to realize that they could not only tolerate one another, but they actually enjoyed each other’s company. No longer did Theodore beg his father to leave him behind when he visited Malfoy Manor, instead he found himself looking forward to the visits, despite all of the stupid things that Draco dragged him into. He still thought the other boy was spoiled and far too privileged, but he eventually decided that he didn’t mind so much. If Theodore was being honest, Draco was the first real friend that he had found, and he liked to think that it was their differences that made them understand one another.

It was spring when Theodore decided he would casually bring up his approaching birthday; not because he expected Draco to care, simply because he figured the other boy should know this private fact about him; for whatever reason.  “When is your birthday?” Theodore thought he was being terribly smart turning the subject around on Draco. Draco loved talking about himself and surely the conversation would eventually turn to Theodore’s own birthday and save him the trouble of simply blurting it out.

Draco was intently studying a chess board that was set between them, and Theodore couldn’t help but grin as he watched Draco’s fair brows draw together in frustration. Draco played every game to win and it annoyed him every time Theodore bested him in chess. It was a boring grown-ups game, but it didn’t stop him from repeatedly collecting Draco’s chess pieces every time. He figured it was good for Draco to lose once in a while and besides, his tantrums were fun to watch.  

“Stop trying to distract me.” Draco didn’t even look up when he issued the warning and continued to stare down at the board, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Theodore shook his head and rolled his eyes at the other boy, who had finally decided which piece to move. He remained silent as he reached forward without much thought and quickly captured Draco’s pawn and set it aside, which earned him a sour scowl from the other boy.  “I told you, chess is all about simple strategy. No amount of planning is going to help you win.” Theodore smiled brightly at Draco, who rolled his eyes in response before glancing back down to the game board.  After a couple of minutes he shifted one of his white chess pieces in front of Theodore’s and scooped it up proudly. “How’s that for simple strategy?” Draco waved the black pawn proudly at the other boy, who raised an amused brow. “Very good Draco, you’re learning.” When Draco responded with a scoff and a rude hand gesture, Theodore couldn’t help but laugh because watching the other boy work himself into a frustrated fit never got old.

It was a while later when Draco finally answered Theodore’s previous question about his birthday, during an attempted siege on his king. “June fifth.” He said casually without lifting his gaze from the board. Theodore took this new information and stored it away in his memory like he did with everything real that he learned from the other boy. Draco was sort of like an onion in the way that he had layers, and even at a young age Theodore took pride in being privy to these rare tidbits that were not puffed up for show.  

“Summer birthday, that’s brilliant.” Theodore smiled more to himself than Draco as he considered all of the possibilities for Draco’s birthday that would fall in a few short months. Maybe he could finally coax the other boy into the lake for a swim, it would certainly be warm enough by then.

“I suppose.” Draco replied airily as he stretched out on the carpet and propped himself up on an elbow. “So when is your birthday, Theodore?” Draco was looking directly at the other boy as he spoke, and although Theo had no real way of knowing it, he somehow knew that Draco had seen through his attempt at stealthy conversation steering.  He felt his cheeks heat up with a flush that gave him away and although he desperately tried, there was nowhere else to look except right back at Draco.

“March fifteenth.” Theodore managed the response pretty smoothly, at least he thought so, but then Draco smirked knowingly at him and he was internally questioning everything he thought he knew.

“You know, if you wanted me to know your birthday was coming up, you could have just said so. Simple strategy, Theodore.” Draco echoed Theodore’s own words from earlier back at him with a smugness that made his skin burn. It was generally Theodore who had the pleasure of riling Draco up, not the other way around.

“Fair point.” Theodore muttered finally, and when the attention was turned back to the half-finished game between them he heaved a quiet sigh of relief.  

“Besides, I already knew. Mother told me last week.” Draco spoke plainly as he moved his chess piece on the game board, not bothering to glance up at Theodore, who blinked incredulously at him.  

This was one of the very first times Theodore would be on the receiving end of Draco’s uncanny ability to hide behind a mask of sorts, and it would be a lesson that he would learn and relearn over the years until Draco finally trusted himself enough not to wear one at all.

∞

March 15, 1989 was a Wednesday. Theodore was not scheduled to visit until the coming weekend, but that did not stop Draco from insisting that his mother allow him a visit to Luckington Manor. Although Narcissa was reluctant to allow her son to arrive unannounced at the home of one of Lucius’ associates, in the end she agreed. Partly because she simply could not say no to Draco, and partly because she was relieved to see that he had finally appeared to form a real friendship with someone his own age.

Draco arrived on Theodore’s doorstep precisely at ten with the assistance of his mother. He made her apparate back home before he announced his presence, which he did by banging the large brass knocker on the door obnoxiously loud.

After what seemed like an eternity Theodore himself answered the door, peering at Draco curiously. “What are you doing here?” He asked, forgetting his manners entirely.

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically as if the answer should have been obvious. “You didn’t think I’d let you spend your birthday alone, did you?” He raised his brows up high and ignored the bewildered expression that Theodore wore, huffing impatiently instead. “Are you going to let me in, or am I going to spend the day on this stoop?” Draco smirked as Theodore sprung to action and opened the door up wide enough for him to enter.

Luckington Manor was much like Malfoy Manor, although Draco could certainly see the subtle differences. His parents kept his family home shining and dripping with purchases that boldly displayed their wealth, which wasn’t really the case in Theodore’s home. The structure was impressive, if not a little dusty.  “So this is where you live.” Draco said as he followed Theodore up the stairs towards his room, silver gaze darting this way and that, taking everything silently in.  Theodore was still confused by Draco’s visit because never once in the time they had known one another had Draco ever visited, and although he was secretly pleased for the attention, he somehow felt inadequate. “If I’d have known you were coming…” Theo glanced over his shoulder at Draco as they entered his modestly decorated room and offered him a nervous smile.  “And spoil the surprise?” Draco grinned as he plopped right down on Theodore’s unmade bed, which Theodore found oddly amusing somehow.  

“You brought me a surprise?” He asked as he shut the door and crossed the room towards Draco, taking up his own spot near the end of the bed.

“Aren’t I surprise enough?” Draco raised a brow and stared at Theo as if he were dead serious and the weight of his stare made Theodore’s insides squirm.

It was one thing to visit Draco at Malfoy Manor, where Theodore could best Draco at all of his own games and cut him down on his own turf, but it was quite another to have the blond invade his own space that he’d never shared with anyone before.  

“Sure, I mean. I didn’t expect anything, thanks for coming to visit me, you didn’t have to.” Theodore picked absently at the corner of his duvet and avoided Draco’s harsh gaze and for just a minute he knew what it felt like to feel small.

Draco rolled his eyes and waved a hand, head shaking dramatically as he spoke. “I hope you aren’t going to be this exciting the entire day. Don’t make me regret coming all the way over here.” He reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a rectangular box tied neatly with a green bow, which he handed to Theodore. “This is for you, mother insisted on wrapping it up proper for you, but I picked it out.” Draco leaned back against the headboard and watched the other boy, who stared down at the small package in his hand curiously. “You brought me a present.” Theodore murmured so quietly that it could have been a whisper, and although Draco would never admit it, it made him genuinely happy in a way that he was not accustomed to.

“Everyone should have at least one present on their birthday, especially a brilliant one from someone like me.” Draco said this plainly and then they shared a laugh before Theodore carefully untied the ribbon and opened his present.

When Draco had asked Narcissa to take him shopping she had not been expecting that he would request a day trip to France. She knew her son enjoyed the finer things in life, but he had never shown much interest in the actual act of shopping before now. Of course she jumped at the chance to indulge him and as she followed him from shop to shop along Avenue des Ternes she couldn’t help but swell with quiet pride at how much her little boy had grown in the blink of an eye.

  
Draco had had a specific gift in mind when he asked his mother to accompany him to France, and although it had taken him longer to locate something he deemed suitable than he had originally thought, he was pleased with his choice.  The box that was now in Theodore’s hand was lined with black velvet, which gently encased a hand crafted feather quill. To the average person this might just look like any old goose feather quill, but Draco was anything but the average person and this was anything but the average gift.

“It’s a swan feather. They’re very rare, but I’m told that with a delicate enough hand, they can last many years.” Draco watched Theodore carefully as he spoke, intent on gleaning his true feelings regarding the gift, whatever they were. He didn’t ever go to these lengths for anyone, and although he could not explain it, he felt compelled to give Theodore a gift that would mean something.

Theodore stared down at the quill for a long time, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t been aware that Draco was even capable of such a thoughtful gesture, although Draco had been known to surprise him on occasion. He reached for the quill and carefully removed it, twirling it gently between his fingers and when he glanced back up at Draco, his smile was so genuine that Draco’s ears flushed lightly.  “Thank you Draco, this is a perfect gift.” Theodore was not nearly as skilled at emotion control as Draco was and as such, his voice shook slightly, although Draco politely pretended not to notice.

“You’re welcome.” He said quietly, unable to help but smile proudly. Draco had seen the well-worn journal that Theodore kept hidden in his pocket whenever he visited and although he was mildly curious as to what Theodore scribbled in it, he would never ask. It had been a natural choice to gift Theodore with a beautiful quill to write with, and although the symbolism of the worn journal and the expensive quill would be lost on both boys, it was the first of many that would span over the years of their lives together.

The rest of the day was spent like their time together was always spent; they played a board game that Theodore won, they played hide and find in the tall, weedy grass behind the Manor, and when the sun set, they lie down side by side on a blanket and shared a pair of omniocculars.  At seven pm Dobby turned up with a vanilla cupcake bearing a candle, just as Draco had instructed him to, and when he held it out and instructed Theodore to make a wish, he had no idea that Theodore’s wish had already come true.

**  
Happy Birthday, Theodore.**


	2. 1990

1990 would be a tough year for Draco. This is the year that he would experience true loss and sadness for the first time in in his young life. No one should have to navigate through the loss of a loved one at ten years old, and although at the time, Draco would feel like he was the loneliest little boy in the world, he would eventually realize that he was anything but alone.

It was the first of March when things started going downhill. Draco’s grandfather Abraxas’ health had been rapidly declining since winter and although his parents wouldn’t come right out and say it, Draco knew that it was only a matter of time before his grandfather would be gone.  

Draco had always shared a special bond with Abraxas, one that  made his father’s teeth grind with jealousy. Unlike Lucius, Abraxas was kind and was always willing to listen to Draco when he just wanted to talk. Everything that his father lacked as a parent seemed to be in great abundance within his grandfather and Draco wasn’t sure how he was going to get on in the world without him.

Theodore came for a visit that first weekend and he didn’t even object when Draco dragged him up the grand staircase and down a long drafty corridor to his grandfather’s chambers. This wasn’t the first time that Theodore had met the old man. Draco’s visits to Abraxas’ chambers had become more and more frequent and often overlapped with the time he was supposed to be spending entertaining Theodore. Of course the visits with Abraxas were somewhat awkward for Theodore. The older man would often sit propped up against mounds of pillows and stare at the two boys, his watery gaze moving between them as Draco prattled on and on about something that he deemed important enough to share. Sometimes his gaze would meet Theodore’s and they would stare at each other for a long moment until the younger boy looked away, busying himself instead with the view beyond the window or a rogue thread in the seam of his trousers.  It wasn’t that Abraxas made him feel uncomfortable; on the contrary, Theodore secretly wished that he had grandparents of his own to spend time with. If he had to guess, he would say that Abraxas was far more intelligent and cognizant than he was often given credit for. Sometimes the older man would regale them with stories about his youth or about Draco’s grandmother, which always fascinated Theodore with the different emotions that they invoked for all three of them.

Today they perched at the end of Abraxas’ massive bed and listened to him talk about Tom.  Theodore felt like he sort of _knew_ Tom because he was so often the topic of the older man’s tales. Theodore leaned back against the footboard and got comfortable, not really thinking anything of it when Draco leaned back against his bent knees. Abraxas was staring at them with wide eyes that were so pale they were nearly translucent and Theodore bit his lip and remained silent because he knew that the story would come, just like it always did.

_“...The most important piece of advice I can give you is to always be true to yourself. I know that it is difficult to process such a statement at your age, but you would do well to remember these words. Soon you will both be headed to Hogwarts and you will meet that filthy hat that speaks with a knowledge that a simple fabric should not possess. Take every new experience in, even the ones you might think menial. I made my own share of mistakes at your age, and I can tell you that you never forget them; the missteps. You should never allow your prejudices to guide you. I learned at a very early age that judging that which you do not truly know is a character flaw that is harder to break than you might think. It is also important to remember that sometimes, you cannot change a person, no matter how much you wish it to be so. To accept another as they truly are is often the hardest thing to do, but if you succeed, you will know freedom like no other. Looking at the two of you, I feel like I am glimpsing distorted images of the past. When I am gone, it is you who will take my lessons on into the next generation. Be true to yourself. Do not let prejudice rule you. Accept people for what they are. I’ve given you the foundation, it is up to you to build the rest._

_Now, let me tell you of the time I followed Tom into the girls lavatory at Hogwarts…”_

Theodore thought about the things that Abraxas had said to them for a long time after the visit had come to an end. When he was back at home tucked safely in his own bed he closed his eyes and let the sound of the old man’s voice boom in his mind. He turned the words over and over on his own tongue and wondered what Abraxas had meant by them. There was a large part of Theodore that knew that what Abraxas had said to them was more than just mere advice, although it would be many years before he could finally piece together the relevance of the words to the life he shared with Draco.  

∞

Theodore’s birthday arrived on a Thursday, and as with the year before, Draco arrived on the steps of Luckington Manor early that day. Unlike the year previous Theodore had been expecting Draco, and although nothing was ever said between them to acknowledge the fact that Draco would visit, Theodore had known that the other boy would still come.

When Theodore opened the door for Draco he was grinning wildly, which Draco found amusing on many levels. Once they were safely sequestered within the walls of Theodore’s bedroom Draco pulled a neatly wrapped package from within his cloak and handed it over to the other boy.  Much like the year before, Draco had given his gift much thought. Of course it would have been easy to gift the other boy with another quill or a crystal pot of ink, but Draco was not the type to take the easy way out; at least where birthday gifts were concerned.  This year his package contained a leather bound journal with a shining silver strip of satin ribbon that served as a page marker.  Theodore stared down at the journal for a long moment, his fingertips tracing over the gold foil name embossed on its front. He did not look pleasantly surprised like he had the year before, which instantly had Draco second-guessing his gift.

“You don’t like it.” Draco noted with a slightly petulant tone that tugged down the corners of his mouth.

When Theodore glanced up at the other boy he instantly felt guilty for not showing appreciation for the gift and quickly shook his head.  “I do, it’s just that…”  He quickly averted his gaze back down to the journal still in his hands as the rest of his words stopped dead in his throat.

  
Theodore didn’t want Draco to think that he didn’t appreciate the gift, because he did, but he wasn’t sure how to properly explain his feelings on the matter without sounding horribly childish.

  
“I can return it, it’s not a big deal.” Draco shrugged a shoulder and appeared indifferent on the matter, which upset Theodore even further. He knew Draco well enough by now to know that he was much more capable of masking his true emotions than most children their age, and it was important that he make the other boy understand.

“No, please don’t. I love the gift, it was very thoughtful, thank you.” Theodore looked back at Draco and offered him a smile, which was not readily returned.

“Then what?” Draco was anything if not persistent, and when Theodore sighed quietly, he waited for the explanation that he knew would come.

  
“It’s nothing, really. My mother gave me the journal I have now, is all.” He wanted to explain to Draco that it wasn’t his fault that Theodore was so attached to the old journal that he carried around with him everywhere. He wanted to assure the other boy that he really did love the new journal and would cherish it along with the swan feather quill, but he wasn’t sure how to do so without sounding silly. Draco’s friendship was important to him, and although they never really spoke of Theodore’s mother and what had happened to her, he hoped that Draco would somehow understand.

Whatever Draco had been expecting to hear, that hadn’t been it. He felt foolish and thoughtless for expecting Theodore to be as enthusiastic about the journal as he had been with the quill. Of course there had been a deeper meaning behind the old journal that he carried around, and Draco felt he had been presumptuous to think otherwise.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” Draco’s mouth twisted slightly as he spoke because he was unsure how to navigate this sort of conversation. It was so much easier when they were within their usual roles, but Theodore was important to Draco; and that included the uncomfortable bits as well.

“Not really.” Theodore’s voice was quieter than it usually was and Draco nodded. He hadn’t really expected the other boy to open up to him, even if he had secretly wished it.  “But maybe someday.” Theodore tacked on this last part a little more boldly and when he met Draco’s gaze, they smiled back at one another in understanding.

This would be the very first instance that one of Abraxas’ lessons would come into play, although neither boy would truly realize the meaning behind it for a long time. Draco accepted Theodore for all of his insecurities and Theodore accepted Draco for all of his presumptions. Of course, it wouldn’t always be like this, and there would be a long period of time where neither boy would accept themselves let alone each other, but it was a defining moment in the fabric of their lives that would be looked back upon with a great fondness one day.

The rest of the day was spent as only two such as Draco and Theodore could appreciate, and at precisely seven pm Dobby the house elf turned up with a cupcake bearing a single candle.  They sat across from one another on a blanket beneath the stars and when Draco handed Theodore his cupcake and told him to make a wish, Theodore closed his eyes and wished that it would always be just like this.

∞

It was two months following Draco’s birthday when Abraxas passed away. Theodore will always remember the broken look in Draco’s eyes and the way he fought so desperately not to cry. At the funeral Theodore sat in the front row, right next to Draco and no one ever knew that beneath the folds of fabric collected between them, their hands were clasped tightly together.

Theodore’s fingers felt like warm anchors against Draco’s skin and even though he was mourning more deeply than even he realized, Theodore made it just a little bit easier to manage.  After the somber mass they snuck away from the crowds of people gathered on the lawns and in the manor and walked silently down to the lake. Theodore sat beside Draco and offered him an endless supply of rocks to skip across the murky water. For a long time no words were exchanged between them, which suited them both just fine.  It was a long while later when Theodore finally spoke up, and as he looked out across the water to the slowly setting sun beyond the horizon, he knew that he could finally trust Draco with his secrets.

“I want to tell you about my mother…”

 ****  



	3. 1991

1991 was the first year that things started to change for Draco and Theodore. After the holidays and the warmth of the summer they would be boarding the Hogwart’s Express for the first time. Draco was excited to embark upon this new adventure and would often spend hours speculating about how brilliant it was going to be. He would prattle on and on about his thoughts and views regarding Slytherin house as they walked a long circle around the edge of Malfoy estate, and when he scrambled atop the biggest fallen log in the coppice near the edge of the woody areas at the far west of the property, he felt like the king of the castle.

Theodore rarely interrupted Draco when he was in the middle of one of the obnoxious Hogwarts speeches that he liked to give, but it didn’t ever stop him from worrying about what the boarding school would mean for them both. Not only was Theodore concerned about how it would change their friendship when he was forced to share Draco with countless other people, but he had also been questioning his place in Slytherin house for weeks.  His father was as confident as Lucius Malfoy was that his son would sort Slytherin, but what he didn’t know is that his son wasn’t sure that Slytherin was where he should be.  There was no question that Theodore possessed many of the qualities that Slytherin was known for, but after much study on the different houses Theodore couldn’t help but wonder if he was more suited for a house like Ravenclaw.  Of course, he never once voiced his concerns to Draco; the last thing he needed right now was Draco making fun of him for even considering such a thing. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure he was willing to disappoint Draco as much as an admission like that most certainly would.

“Earth to Theodore. Are you even listening?”  Draco’s voice sliced through his thoughts like a blade and when he blinked up at the other boy he flushed slightly before responding with a flat “no,” which made Draco’s eyes narrow.

“I see.” Draco’s voice was cool and indifferent and he barely afforded Theodore a lingering glance before hopping down off the fallen log and heading farther into the forest.  

Theodore stared after him for only a moment before heaving a quiet sigh and following after. He had known Draco long enough to know that this was the other boy’s way of getting what he wanted, but it didn’t stop him from going after him all the same. “Draco, wait up.” Theodore cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted ahead to the other boy, who was nearly out of eyesight. He was not in any big hurry to find himself alone in these woods, even if he only _half_ believed Draco’s stories about the frightful things that lived in it.

By the time Theodore realized that he had no idea where Draco had disappeared to, the sun was high overhead and he could feel it burning his scalp between the layers of branches that hung high above. He had given up strategic trail marking in favor of blind running and when he couldn’t run anymore he stopped short in a small circle of trees and bent over to rest his hands on his knees and catch his breath. Theodore knew that Draco was more than likely hiding on purpose, but it did not stop the small seeds of doubt and worry from swirling dangerously in the back of his mind. After a few minutes Theodore started off again, determined to locate the other boy.  “Draco, where are you?” His voice resonated off the trees that surrounded him and came back to him sounding hollow and scared. He wondered if Draco was somewhere nearby, having a good laugh as he watched Theodore fall apart, or maybe he had gone and done something stupid and was lying injured somewhere. Whatever the case was he knew that he had to find the other boy before they both caught trouble from their fathers.

When Theodore finally made his way out of the forest he was sweaty and looking much worse for wear. He had obviously been running back and forth through the small gathering of trees with reckless abandon and now he was beside himself with worry over what his father would say when he returned to the manor without Draco. His hands twisted together nervously as he trudged across the grass towards the house and he was playing and replaying that last fleeting glimpse of blond hair through the trees. For as big of a pain in the arse that Draco was, Theodore really did hope he was okay.  Dobby the house elf was waiting for Theodore at the front doors and bowed low to the ground as he held them open. He remained silent as he followed the elf down the hall to the library, dreading what was surely impending doom. When he entered the massive room he was really only half surprised to see Draco lounging in a chair by the fireplace and the wave of relief that swept him up was short lived and quickly replaced by confused anger.  

“You left me out there on purpose.” It wasn’t a question so much as it was a realization and when Theodore dropped down into the seat beside Draco’s, he heaved yet another heavy sigh.

Draco said nothing as he sat there, sipping his tea and staring directly at the other boy. Theodore gazed back at him and his mouth twisted into a sort of frown. He didn’t know what else to say because it was somehow worse that Draco had just left him out there instead of trying to pull a simple prank.

It was  a long while before either boy said anything at all. They sipped their tea in absolute silence and each passing minute hung in the air like an awkward balloon, just waiting to be popped.

“Are you going to explain yourself now?” Draco’s voice cut right through the deafening silence and Theodore could only blink because he didn’t understand what the other boy was trying to get at.

“Explain _MY_ self? You’re the one who left me out in the forest thinking you were injured or something.” Theodore’s eyes moved away from Draco as he spoke, instead focusing on the cooling contents of his teacup. Draco regarded him for another long moment before he responded and it was right at that exact moment that Theodore realized that they were no longer the little boys of their past. A realization that would repeat itself over and over again.

“You’ve been distracted. Why?” Draco’s reply sounded like he didn’t care either way but Theodore knew better than that; Draco wouldn’t bother asking if he wasn’t invested in the response.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. He knew perfectly well what Draco was getting at; the very thing that he’d been avoiding. He couldn’t tell his best friend that he didn’t know if he belonged in Slytherin, he just didn’t have it in him to disappoint the other boy and so he gave a vague answer instead.  “I’m just worried that everything will change once we get to Hogwarts.”It wasn’t a lie, not really, and although Theodore knew he had done nothing wrong, he somehow felt to blame.

Draco watched Theodore for a long time before he spoke, his silver gaze moving over every inch of the other boy as if he were studying him. Theodore hated when Draco was like this. Not only was it impossible to discern what the blond was thinking or feeling, it felt odd being the subject of such intense scrutiny. Minutes had passed before Draco finally spoke, and when he did it was of little comfort to Theodore, regardless of the weight the promise may have held.  

“Nothing is going to change. I promise.”

∞

March 15th 1991 was a Friday. Thick rain clouds blanketed the sky overhead as Draco stepped up to the front doors of Luckington Manor and lifted the brass door knocker. He barely got in a single knock before the front door swung open and Theodore ushered him inside with a smile.  Draco followed Theodore up the stairs to his bedroom and plopped down on his bed before retrieving a present, as was now their tradition, three years running.

  
“It’s not a journal, don’t worry.” Draco handed the small square box over with a smirk and a soft laugh that Theodore readily joined in with.

“Well, let’s see what it is then.” Theodore murmured this more to himself than Draco as he carefully untied the bow and set it aside. It was then that he noticed the velveteen box was a jewelry box, which paused his fingers just before opening it. He glanced up at Draco, who gave him a small nod, which made him smile before he turned his attention back to the present.

Theodore peered down at the small piece of silver that was nestled in the box, and although he had no idea exactly what it was, he could not deny that it was very beautiful. It had a smooth round surface that was fitted with mother of pearl that surrounded a small sapphire inlaid stone. When he plucked the small metal object out of the box and peered at it Draco couldn’t help but smirk, and when Theodore thanked him for the thoughtful gift he laughed outright at the other boy.

“It’s a cufflink.” Draco’s voice was smug and smooth like he could see right through him, which Theodore scoffed at.

“I know that. But why? What am I supposed to do with just one?” He leaned back against the footboard and looked to Draco expectantly.

“It was my grandfather’s. Mother gave them to me after…” Draco’s brow wrinkled for the briefest of moments before smoothing itself back out as if it had never happened. “To help you remember where you came from, no matter where you’re going.” Draco’s expression was void of any real emotion but it didn’t matter. Theodore knew Draco well enough to realize the sentiment behind the gift.

Draco wanted to explain  that this cufflink was _his_ way of saying that he accepted Theodore as he was and that they would always be friends, no matter what their future held. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that things could always be like they were now. They were children on the precipice of growing up and as much as Draco may have wished he could cling to that, he was also excited for whatever might be coming for them both.  

“I kept the other one.” Draco added with a faint smile, leaving so many more things unsaid.

Theodore felt overwhelmed and he didn’t know what to say. When he had first laid eyes on the cufflink he was confused, and now here he was, surprised by Draco’s uncanny ability to morph into someone that Theodore was not familiar with at all.  This would also be a recurring theme in their lives, one that Theodore would have an extremely difficult time with, but that time was still worlds away to them both.

“I love it, thank you so much.” Theodore’s grin was infectious and it wasn’t long before both boys were laughing wildly.  Draco didn’t need to tell Theodore that the cufflinks were his way of reminding Theodore that they were in this together. He didn’t need to tell him that he wanted Theodore in Slytherin but would accept him wherever he was. He didn’t need to say these things to Theodore because Theodore already knew.

In just a few short months the pair of cufflinks will make their first journey to Hogwarts in the trouser pockets of two friends. When Draco sorts Slytherin Theodore is holding his breath and turning the small silver object over and over in his hand that is shoved into his pocket. He will sigh to himself and he will still be unsure of where he belongs in the school. He wont see Draco’s watchful gaze as he sits amongst housemates at the Slytherin table and he will never know how tightly Draco’s own cufflink is clutched in his hand as he waits and watches and hopes because regardless of how many times he says it, he is not ready to give up Theodore.

**  
** _No matter where you’re going._


	4. 1992

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And like Theodore, Draco wished it could always be just like this.

By the time their first year of Hogwarts had come and gone it was clear that Draco and Theodore were not the same little boys that they had once been. Being a first year Slytherin had been everything that Draco had ever imagined that it would be, and despite the fact that Harry Potter himself was attending Hogwarts as well, the year had still been spectacular. Of course Potter and his Gryffindor fan club had tried everything that they could to make Draco’s life miserable; something that would become a sort of theme in the coming years that could not be avoided. Draco saw no fault in this situation of his own doing. If anything he had been kind to Potter the first time he’d met him in Diagon Alley; it wasn’t Draco’s fault that he couldn’t see that. Theodore had witnessed the entire exchange and had a good laugh about it later. He had known Draco for years and he also knew that Draco’s temperament was not an easy thing to handle for those that did not know him.  Theodore spent a good portion of the school year laughing off Draco’s _rivalry_ with Harry Potter but a small part of him secretly wondered if it would always be this way. It wasn’t hard to see that Potter had it out for Draco, which didn’t sit well with Theodore. Draco was far from innocent, but he was also Theodore’s best friend; which made Potter and his friends the enemy.  Over the years these feelings would only grow, and when Potter himself cuts Draco down in a girls lavatory, Theodore’s blood will boil and he will want nothing more than to make Harry Potter pay for what he’s done.

 

Summer is quickly coming to an end around them and although Draco enjoys his time at home with Theodore more than anything, he is eager to return to school. This would be the year that he joined the Slytherin Quidditch team and the year that he finally proved himself. First year was done and gone and Draco just knew it was his time to shine.

 

“I think you should join, it would be good for you.” Draco’s voice is smooth as silk without even the slightest hint of exertion. He is standing across from Theodore in a large circular room holding his fencing foil out towards the other boy.

 

“I don’t _want_ to join. I like Quidditch even less than fencing.” Theodore takes a step back to parry Draco’s attack and the soft clank of metal sends a shiver down his spine.

 

Theodore still remembers the first time he picked up a fencing foil. He was eight years old, and even though it was a child’s foil and much lighter than the one he held now, it still felt formidable in his small hands. He had never had a desire to engage in such a sport; that had been _all_ Draco. Draco plays like he’s been doing it all of his life, which Theodore thinks might not be far off from the truth. He moves around the padded floor with a grace that Theodore knows he will never possess and when he lunges, his arm stretches so elegantly that it almost appears to be a dance.  Draco knows that Theodore does not enjoy fencing nearly as much as he does, but it does not stop him from engaging a match at least once a week if he can get away with it. They have been fencing for three years and Theodore still feels like he is clueless compared to Draco.

 

“You love fencing, don’t try and deny it. I’ve seen that _look_ you get when we match.” Draco’s words are more like a laugh that flows from between parted lips as he moves in for another lunge.

 

“That _look_ is boredom. I only do this because you wont let me say no.” Theodore parries Draco’s lunge with more force than intended, which causes Draco’s eyebrow to arch sharply.

 

When Draco stops in the middle of the match Theodore inwardly groans because he knows that Draco is on the verge of one of his tantrums. Except when Draco has a tantrum it isn’t a showy display like a toddler might do. Draco’s tantrums are more like an underhanded battle of cunning and wit that you never see coming.

 

Theodore sees everything.

 

“So you’re saying that I _force_ you into doing things?” Draco rests his fists against the small of his back as he addresses Theodore, fencing foil still in hand.

 

“No. I’m saying you’re a spoiled prat who generally gets his way.” Theodore blinks slowly at Draco, whose eyes narrow dangerously.

 

For a long moment neither boy says anything at all. Draco is glaring down his nose at Theodore, who is staring right back and waiting for what will surely come next.

 

“Well, if that’s the case, then you’ll join the Slytherin Quidditch team. It’s what I want, and I _always_ get my way, isn’t that right?” Draco’s tone speaks nothing of the frustration that Theodore knows is there, which is a testament to how skilled Draco has already become at controlling his emotions. Theodore wants to laugh but finds himself shaking his head instead, which earns him another raised eyebrow from Draco.

 

“I’m not joining the Quidditch team. Are we going to finish this match or not?” Theodore raises his foil and readies his stance, leaving the proverbial ball in Draco’s court.

 

Draco eyes the other boy for another extended moment before sighing dramatically and raising his own foil. “Very well, but this conversation is far from over.”

 

“Tell me something I don’t already know.” Theodore cannot help but grin at the other boy as they ready to pick up their match once more. He is eager to be done and be out of the constricting gear, even if that means more berating about Quidditch from Draco.

 

The corners of Draco’s mouth curl into a satisfied smirk as he takes a step back and prepares to engage. He knows that he cannot change Theodore’s mind about this, but it doesn’t hurt to try…

“En Garde.”

 

∞

 

March 15th 1992 comes on a Sunday. The sky is littered with fluffy white clouds that barely hint at rain and although it is cold enough to need a heavier cloak, the warmth of the sun peeking out from behind the clouds is enough.  Draco arrives on the front doorstep of Luckington Manor sometime before noon, a large package secured firmly beneath his arm. He sends his mother away before he knocks, as is customary. He cannot _wait_ until he is old enough to make this simple journey on his own.

  
Before he can even take the brass doorknocker in hand Theodore is there, swinging open the door and dragging Draco inside. Draco’s yearly visits on his birthday are something that he looks forward to all year. It is not often that Theodore gets to see Draco as genuine as he always is on Theodore’s birthday. His gifts are thoughtful and sincere and they make Theodore feel more loved than he has in a very long time.

 

This year Draco’s present is too large to hide in a cloak pocket and Theodore’s gaze instantly moves to it as Draco steps inside the manor. He leads the way up to his bedroom and watches anxiously as Draco crosses the room, tosses off his cloak, and plops right down on the bed. He cannot help but wonder what a gift of that size could possibly be. Draco’s gifts are among Theodore’s most treasured items, and although he has yet to unwrap it, he knows that this one will be no different.

 

“Come open it.” Draco is gazing expectantly at Theodore, who is still lingering by the closed door.

 

When Theodore takes his spot at the foot of the bed, Draco hands the present over with a cryptic smile. Theodore takes his time unwrapping it, taking care not to wrinkle the ribbon or rip the paper. It doesn’t take him very long to realize that it is a broom inside, although he doesn’t realize it is a top of the line racing broom until it falls free of the packaging right into his lap.

 

Theodore cannot help but frown slightly as he peers down at the broom, and when he looks up at Draco, he instantly regrets it.

 

“I…Thank you.” Theodore feels stupid and his cheeks instantly flush bright red. He doesn’t know what to say or if this is just another one of Draco’s selfish attempts to get him to join the Slytherin Quidditch team, but he cannot hide the disappointment in his eyes. Draco’s gifts had always been meaningful and sincere, but this broom was anything but.

 

Draco knew that his gift would get this sort of reaction out of Theodore, but it had not stopped him from wrapping up the broom and carting it over to Luckington Manor all the same. He knew that he couldn’t change Theodore’s mind about the team; this was not even about the team.

 

“Look. I know you don’t like Quidditch and you don’t want to join the Slytherin team, and I suppose that as your best friend, I accept that. But I hope that maybe you’ll play with me.” Draco’s gaze lifted from the broom to meet Theodore’s and as they sat there with silence growing between them, Theodore understood what Draco was trying to say.

 

Draco wasn’t trying to sway Theodore’s decision about joining the team. He was accepting it. And this broom wasn’t a ploy meant to bribe; it was a reminder of the bonds of their friendship. Draco knew that Theodore would never play on the Slytherin team, but he hoped that Theodore would still play with him.

 

Draco’s gift wasn’t so selfish after all.

 

“Of course I’ll play with you.” Theodore’s grin stretched from ear to ear and when he suddenly scrambled off the bed and tugged Draco along with, Draco could only yelp with surprised laughter.

 

“I hope you brought your broom.” Theodore was still smiling when they bounded down the stairs towards the front doors. A small part of him felt foolish for doubting Draco’s intentions and he made a silent vow to himself right at that moment to never doubt his best friend again—A vow that he would be forced to break one day.

 

∞

 

At seven pm sharp Dobby the house elf showed up with a chocolate cupcake bearing a single candle; just like he did every year. Draco lounged on a blanket that they had stretched out on the yellowish grass outside of Theodore’s home. Their brooms lie abandoned beside them in favor of stargazing as the daylight melted into night, and the day had been absolutely perfect, as was now tradition. He watched Theodore cup the small cake in his hands and close his eyes to make a wish and he couldn’t help but wonder what the other boy was thinking of when he made it.

 

Afterwards they would lie back on the blanket, side by side, and Theodore would point out the stars in the sky, which somehow looked so different than they did back at Malfoy Manor. Draco would smile to himself as he listened to Theodore speak about the stars with a quiet and unassuming pride and he would be thankful that their fathers had seen fit to force them into friendship.

 

And like Theodore, Draco wished it could always be just like this. 


	5. 1993

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> French Pastries and an introduction to Oscar Wilde. 
> 
> Hello, 1993.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always for Unkissed, my muse in all things, and for Theodore, Draco's missing piece.

Spring of 1993 was a much different experience than the year before. Near the end of his second year at Hogwarts, Draco’s father Lucius had been unwittingly forced into freeing Dobby the House Elf, which served as both an annoyance for the Malfoy family and also another reason for Draco to loathe Harry Potter. Without the house elf around, Draco found himself doing simple things for himself that he had never had to deal with before. Tasks he once took for granted, like making his bed and taking his dishes to the sink after a meal became menial reminders of what had been taken away from him. Over the course of several months, Draco’s behavior shifted from entitled to negative and by the time 1993 had come around, he had vowed to make Harry Potter pay for what he’d done to his family.

 

“Mother made me _clean_ up my chambers this morning, can you believe it?” Draco’s fists were clenched into soft fists as he walked through the gardens at Malfoy Manor beside Theodore Nott. He was wearing a scowl that his father would be proud of and felt as if Potter’s actions were a personal attack against him. “This is **all** Potter’s fault. I’m going to make him pay.” His scowl deepened every time he mentioned the Gryffindor’s name, as if the actual act of speaking it physically pained him.

 

Theodore was uncharacteristically quiet beside him as they made their way down one of the cobbled paths, his expression schooled into a careful portrait of indifference. If he was being honest, he was dreadfully tired of hearing Draco complain about Harry Potter. It seemed as if with each passing month, Draco’s rivalry with the other boy appeared to grow in leaps and bounds, and although Theodore sympathized with his best friend, he was done wasting his precious time on the bespectacled show off.

 

“You actually cleaned something?” Theodore glanced sidelong at Draco and raised a skeptical brow, which the blond promptly rolled his eyes at.

 

“I did and it was awful. I cannot wait until—“ Draco was cut short from finishing that particular thought when Theodore held up a hand and shook his head. He could honestly only sympathize so much.

 

“Let’s forget about Harry bloody Potter, yeah?” Theodore smiled at Draco and nodded his head encouragingly, to which Draco merely stared back at him flatly.

 

“Let’s go hide the Occamy eggs in the fountain and forget about Gryffindors, at least for one day.” Theodore didn’t bother waiting for a reply from the blond as he turned heel and headed down another path that branched off towards the large Topiary garden. He knew Draco would follow because he wouldn’t want to be left out of the fun, but he also knew that distracting his friend was the _only_ way to get his mind off the situation; at least for a little while.

 

∞

 

March 15th 1993 was a beautiful spring day. The sun was out and there were little more than a few scant clouds loitering in the sky above, which Draco was thankful for. 

 

Draco arrived at Luckington Manor sometime before noon that day, escorted by his mother like years previous. When she left him on the doorstep he had a present in his cloak pocket and a white box tied with twine in his hands.  This year, Theodore’s birthday would have to be a bit different, but Draco wasn’t too worried about the change; at least not anymore.

 

When Theodore opened up the door for him his eyes were instantly drawn to the box in Draco’s hand and his brow raised curiously. Draco stepped into the manor and swept right past Theodore towards the kitchen like he owned the place, which was pretty much how Draco Malfoy acted everywhere he went.

 

“No peeking until later.” Draco narrowed his eyes at Theodore as he carefully deposited the box on the counter and dusted off his hands.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Theodore replied with a grin as they left the kitchen and retraced their steps back to the entry hall to the staircase.

 

Theodore couldn’t really _stop_ grinning all the way up the stairs to his bedroom.

 

In just four years Draco had managed to turn his birthdays from something that he once never gave much thought about to a day that he truly looked forward to. Draco Malfoy was many things and would become even more things as he got older, both good and bad, but it could never be said that when he set his mind to something that he didn’t give it his all.

  
Theodore was infinitely pleased that his birthday was one of those things.

 

Draco unclasped his cloak and folded it over the chair in Theodore’s room before he took his usual seat at the head of the bed, near his pillow. When he reached into his coat pocket Theodore’s breath lodged in his throat and when his hand emerged with a flat, neatly wrapped package in its grasp, the breath that Theodore had been holding swept right out of him like a happy smile.

 

“Come open it.” Draco nodded to the still vacant spot at the foot of the bed and waited for Theodore to join him before handing over the rectangular present.

 

Draco had spent a very long time thinking about what to gift Theodore for his birthday this year. He had always been a very keen observer and was rather skilled at picking up on the unspoken despite his age, but Theodore had been something of an enigma since they’d met. It was no small secret that Theodore enjoyed literature and as they aged he began to delineate favored authors. This year, Draco’s gift would reflect the love that his best friend had for such things.

 

Theodore’s fingers carefully worked apart the wrappings of his present, taking care as he always did not to wrinkle the ribbons or tear the paper. When it was all said and done he sat holding a small book in his hands and his unreadable expression had Draco second-guessing his gift almost immediately.

 

There was a reason that Theodore had grown to love his birthdays more than any other day of the year, and it wasn’t the presents or the cake or even the stargazing that would always follow. Theodore cherished his birthday above every other day because it was the one-day of the year that he felt so cared for that there was no possible way that he could question it or discount it. Against all the odds stacked against them and his better judgment, he had formed an unbreakable bond with this boy sitting on his bed with him. In just a few short years his life had been turned upside down in the best possible ways and although Draco was unbearable a large portion of the time, it was _this_ time that made everything worth it.

  
Draco really _did_ care about him, and even if he never said it aloud, Theodore knew that it was real and true.

 

“Mother says he’s brilliant, for a muggle.” Draco smirked down at the book still in Theodore’s grasp and laughed lightly in a not-so-subtle prompt for a reaction.

 

Of course, Draco would never admit that he’d already read the contents of the book cover to cover before wrapping it up, but **_that_** is another story.

 

Theodore blinked several times and lifted his gaze to meet Draco’s, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “Thank you, so much.”

 

_Poems in Prose_ would be the very first time that a long-dead artist by the name of Oscar Wilde would intervene in the lives of Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Neither boy had any way of knowing it, but the words of _Wilde_ would follow them through their lives, clear into death and even beyond. In just a few short years when they were separated, it would be _Wilde_ that kept Theodore sane with fond memories and an unwavering love, and it would be _Wilde_ that would torture Draco with ghosts of his past to the point of breaking.

 

And in the end, it would be _Wilde_ that would intertwine their two souls into one infinite vessel.

 

“How about we have our cake early and you can read me something from your book.” Draco slid off of Theodore’s bed without waiting for a response and led the way back downstairs to the kitchen, where the white pastry box was still waiting for them.

 

“Had to improvise this year.” He added with a smirky grin as he untied the box and lifted the lid for the other boy to peer inside.

 

“I don’t mind.” Theodore replied quietly, the book of poems clutched tightly against his chest as he leaned in closer for a look inside.

 

“Fresh from Hévin’s this morning.” Draco lifted the small chocolate cake from the box and handed it over to Theodore with a satisfied smile. The upscale pastry was not much different than the ones that Dobby had delivered in the previous years, but there was no denying that it was aesthetically superior.

 

Of course, it didn’t really matter to Theodore where his cake came from, it was more the sentiment behind the act than anything else, but even he could not deny that the chocolate swirls that sat delicately atop his small cake were just  _begging_ for a finger to smear them up.

 

Later, after the cake was eaten and the sun had begun to set, Draco would stretch out on a blanket outside and listen to Theodore read him a passage from his birthday book. Of course, they weren’t really mature enough to grasp the true intent of the words, but _The Artist_ still sounded like a fitting first story to Draco.

 

When it became too dark to read they would like down flat on their backs and stare up at the sky. Theodore would point out Cancer and explain the varying theories on how the constellation received its name and by the time Theodore’s birthday slipped away for another year, both boys would be once again drawn together in a singular hope that it would always be _just like this._

 

Happy birthday, Theodore.

 


	6. 1994

1994 would be the year when everything changed.

  
Not only were Draco and Theodore teenagers now, but also the long-rumored return of The Dark Lord would finally come to pass. Before this year was done and over with Draco and Theodore would both be faced with many new choices and obstacles that neither could have ever imagined, although if you had asked the boys about such things clear back in March, they would have never been able to guess what was coming for them…

 

“Father’s reserved a top box, I expect you to be there with us.”  Draco’s voice was a cool collection of tones that sounded far too honeyed for his young age—This is one of the things that struck Theodore as he walked side by side with his blond counterpart across the lawns of Malfoy Estate.  Although Theodore Nott would never say it out loud, it both frustrated him and enthralled him that Draco seemed to be side-stepping the awkward ‘teenage years’ entirely. Draco had always been an attractive child, he would be the very first to tell you so, but it was quickly becoming evident that he would soon be an attractive young man, and Theodore was still unsure of how that made him feel.

 

“It’s nice to want things.” Theodore’s voice was nowhere near as melodic as Draco’s was, in fact, the way that it often rose and fell of its own accord often made the blond laugh outright.

 

Today, however, Draco was not laughing.

 

“Don’t be difficult, Theodore, I’m _trying_ to invite you to the Quidditch World Cup.” Draco waved a dismissive hand as they cut a path across the lawns towards the stables and Theodore rolled his eyes rather dramatically.

 

“It’s kind of my thing.” Theodore shrugged a shoulder as if this was explanation enough, which earned him a pointed sidelong glare from the blond beside him.

 

“Well your _thing_ is trying on my nerves. Can’t you just be agreeable, for once?” Draco posed this simple request as he led the way into the stables, the conversation momentarily forgotten as his eyes fell on the horse that seemed to be waiting anxiously for his arrival.

 

Like his owner, Draco’s horse was a magnificent creature to behold. At fifteen (and a half!) hands, the Blue Roan gelding was a creature definitely worthy of a Malfoy title.  Theodore often wondered if Narcissa Malfoy spent as many hours choosing aesthetically perfect companion animals for her son as she did fussing over him.  Theodore paused by the stable doors and watched Draco approach the animal, silently marveling over the fact that Draco could appear so kind and so gentle whenever he chose to.

 

“Hello, Baldur. You’ve missed me, have you?” Theodore could hear the smile in Draco’s voice even though his back was turned out, which in turn, made Theodore smile equally as wide. He watched as Draco’s fingers stroked affectionately over the horse’s muzzle and politely averted his gaze when the animal nuzzled Draco’s ear between its whiskery lips.

 

“It’s good to see you, boy.” Theodore glanced back up in time to see Draco nuzzle the horse back, and although he had yet to realize it, this was one of the first times that he looked at his friend in a different light.

 

Theodore cleared his throat from his post by the door, although it didn’t have quite the effect that he’d hoped. Draco’s eyes remained on his horse and Theodore had no choice but to watch as he reached into his trouser pocket and produced a small carrot, which he held out open-palmed for the horse to eat.

 

“Stop lingering, Nanna is waiting for you to say hello.” Draco didn’t even glance up at Theodore as he spoke, and although there was a smart response already on the tip of Theodore’s tongue, he swallowed it down and made his way farther into the stable to the Cremello mare that was eyeing him expectantly from the stall beside Baldur’s.

 

Like most things that the two of them did together, Theodore was neither graceful nor skilled as Draco was; this rule applied to riding as well. “Tighter, Theodore. Cinch the saddle tighter. You don’t want to slide round to the underside while you’re up there.” Draco’s voice held none of its usual imperiousness as he watched Theodore dress his horse for the ride. His own saddle was already firmly affixed to Baldur along with the bridle, whose reins sat waiting patiently for their rider.

 

“If I cinch her any tighter she’s going to pop.” Theodore’s reply was muttered impatiently as he attempted to do as instructed. Nanna grunted and shifted on her hooves when he finally managed to cinch the belt another ring tighter.  “Sorry, girl.” He whispered to the horse and patted her neck before glancing over at Draco, who appeared to be satisfied with his work.

 

Draco led Baldur out of his stall and through the open stable doors into the sunlight, which made him squint and shield his eyes. By the time that Theodore had successfully led Nanna out of the stables Draco had already mounted his horse and was wearing a pair of sunglasses, which Theodore found oddly humorous.

 

“You look ridiculous in those.” He muttered around a laugh as he scrambled up onto Nanna, undoubtedly far less graceful than Draco had done unseen, moments before.

 

Of course it was a complete lie. Draco didn’t look ridiculous in anything, least of all a pair of expensive designer sunglasses; not that Theodore would ever admit such a thing.

 

Draco smirked smugly from his seat atop Baldur but said nothing, which Theodore took to mean that the blond knew he was full of it.  Draco Malfoy would be the very first to tell you that he looked perfect in everything; _all_ of the time.

 

Theodore Nott refrained from further comment.

 

 

 

There are few things in this world that are as freeing as the feeling of wind whipping through your hair and stinging your eyes. Although Theodore was far from a seasoned rider, he could still appreciate the joy of sitting atop a massive animal while it galloped across wide-open space. Nanna was an easy horse to maneuver; she always seemed to know which gait you were best equipped for and she never strayed far from Baldur. If Theodore didn’t know any better he would say that some sort of magic was at work, and he would not put it past Narcissa to go to such lengths to protect her son.

 

Draco and Baldur led the way across the lawns towards the coppice at the far end of the property, which both horses would maneuver their way through perfectly before coming out on the other side. Theodore hadn’t often laid eyes on this far-reaching corner of the Malfoy property, and by the looks of it, neither had many other people.  The forestry became much denser as they wove their way through the trees and carefully sidestepped fallen branches. The air was cooler and greener and Theodore felt mildly uneasy, the farther that they travelled away from the Manor.

 

“Are you sure we should be this far out?” Theodore twisted in his saddle to peer over his shoulder, frowning slightly when he could not make out the shape of the house beyond the trees.

 

“Don’t be difficult, I want to show you something.” Draco glanced at Theodore and nodded slightly, as if to reassure him that everything would be fine, although Theodore was not entirely convinced on the matter.

 

“Just a little bit farther now, come on Theodore, don’t dawdle.” Theodore was just opening his mouth to comment on Draco’s use of the word ‘dawdle’ when the blond gently nudged Baldur’s sides and clucked softly in his throat. Theodore had seen him do it a thousand times, but for one reason or another, _this_ time sent a cold shiver down his spine.

 

Theodore didn’t even have to coax Nanna, who had already set off after the pair ahead of them. He watched Draco rise and fall in his saddle in perfect rhythm with Baldur’s stride, momentarily transfixed by the gracefully obscene movements. When Nanna stopped moving Theodore quickly blinked and averted his gaze elsewhere, feeling guilty without really knowing why.

 

“Here it is.” Draco’s voice drew Theodore’s attention back and he watched as the blond dismounted Baldur and stepped up to a large fountain that looked like it had been there for a thousand years.

 

“You dragged me out here to see a broken fountain? You’ve got five _working_ fountains back at the manor.” Theodore slid out of his saddle and ignored the ache in his backside from riding, instead, crossing the small space to stand beside Draco at the foot of the crumbling basin.

 

“Yeah I know that, but this one’s different, isn’t it?” Draco sounded impatient but there was also something else in his voice that Theodore couldn’t quite put his finger on. He watched as Draco’s gloved fingers smoothed across the aged limestone in an almost loving manner.

 

“I suppose, yeah.” Theodore shrugged a shoulder and turned his attention back to the fountain between them, allowing his eyes to move over it slowly, studying it carefully.  “Why do you think it’s out here?”  He added quietly, peering down into the murky depths of stagnant water and wrinkling his nose at his distorted reflection.

 

“No idea, but look at this.” Draco had removed his riding gloves and was now smoothing dirt and debris away from the lip of the basin, which appeared to be carved with a series of ornately scripted words. It took Theodore only a moment to follow suit and by the time they had worked their way around the entire fountain they realized that the carvings wound around the whole thing.

 

 “Punishment leads to fear. Fear leads to obedience. Obedience leads to freedom. Therefore punishment is freedom.” Draco circled the basin as he read the words aloud, a single, pale fingertip tracing over the carvings as he moved. When he had finished he glanced up at Theodore, who was staring blankly back at him.

 

“Well that’s cheery.” Theodore’s voice was flat and lacking most of his usual sarcasm, although the statement was not lost on Draco.

 

“What do you suppose it means?” Draco’s hand was still resting on the fountain as if he were almost reluctant to break contact with it.

 

“It means your family is more insane than I originally thought.” Theodore offered Draco a bright smile and was rewarded with a rude hand gesture and just like that, the heaviness of the moment was gone.

 

The boys spent several hours with their backs up against the fountain, speculating about its origin while Baldur and Nanna grazed nearby. They shared green apple slices and the bottle of elderflower cordial that Theodore had brought with him from Luckington Manor.  Theodore suggested that the fountain had been sitting there for at least fifty years and Draco quietly lamented that they had not found it soon enough to ask Abraxas about it before his passing. 

 

By the time they mounted their horses and headed back towards the stables the sun was already beginning to drop towards the horizon and the warmth of the spring day quickly began to dissolve into chilly nightfall. Later, when Theodore was back at home, he would pull out the journal that Draco had given him for his birthday and draw a crude sketch of the fountain along with all of the details he could remember clearly. It would be many, many years before he ever laid eyes on that crumbling old basin again, but the significance of the motto that it bore would come into play much sooner than even he could imagine.

 

_Punishment is freedom._

 

∞

 

March 15th 1994 was a blustery Tuesday. Draco Malfoy arrived on the doorstep of Luckington Manor at precisely 10 am, escorted by his mother. In his hand was a white pastry box procured from Hévin’s that very morning, and in his cloak pocket sat a neatly wrapped present, as was customary.

 

Theodore had been waiting for Draco since eight, although he knew perfectly well that the blond never showed up before ten. He was officially fourteen now, and another year closer to being free from the overbearing restrictions of his father.

 

When they were safely ensconced within the walls of Theodore’s room Draco carefully removed his cloak before plopping down at the head of the bed. Theodore wasted no time taking up his spot at the foot of the bed and when his cerulean eyes met Draco’s silver ones, they grinned in unison.

 

“Happy birthday, Theodore.” Draco handed Theodore his present and then sat back to watch him open it.

 

Theodore Nott always opened packages the exact same way. He was careful not to wrinkle the ribbons or rip the paper to the point of obsession, and although Draco fully lacked that sort of discipline when it came to such things, he still found great amusement and even a little bit of unspoken appreciation in watching Theodore unwrap his gift year after year.

 

It didn’t take long for Theodore to realize that his present was a book, although _which_ book is not revealed until it falls free of the wrappings right into his lap. He set aside the paper and reached for the book, turning it over in his hands and smoothing fingertips across its worn surface. _À rebours –Joris-Karl Huysmans_ Theodore glanced up at Draco, who was wearing an unreadable expression.

 

“I thought you might enjoy the original French pressing, as it was meant to be read.” Draco’s mouth curled with the faintest of smirks as he spoke, as if he cannot help but be just a little bit smug despite the fact that it is Theodore’s birthday.

Of course, since last year’s gift Theodore had made it his life’s mission to devour anything and everything penned by Oscar Wilde, and as such, Draco has heard him read _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ aloud at least twice. It didn’t take very much research to find out that _À_ rebours is the morally poisonous French novel that inspires Dorian, and an original pressing was something that Draco had known he wanted to gift Theodore with for months.

 

Theodore’s gaze moved from Draco, to the book in his hands, and back again and his brows furrowed together of their own accord. “You know my French is horrible. I can hardly speak it, much less comprehend it.” He let out a quiet huff before adding “but thank you for the gift, I love it,” at the end with a smile.

 

Draco remained quiet for an extended moment; mouth still curved delicately with that hint of a smirk. When his lips parted Theodore swallowed thickly and quickly dropped his gaze to the book in his lap. “I suppose _I’ll_ have to read it to _you.”_ Theodore’s eyes snapped back up to meet Draco’s and as they sat there across from one another, he understood what Draco could not say.

 

For the rest of the afternoon they lay atop Theodore’s bed with Joris-Karl Huysmans and the box from Hévin’s. Draco propped himself up on a mound of Theodore’s pillows and read from _À_ rebours and Theodore lay beside him with his hands tucked beneath his ear, listening quietly. Draco was reading in French, something that Theodore found he enjoyed quite a bit, but he would pause to offer an explanation whenever he thought Theodore might require it.  In all honesty, Theodore absorbed far less of the novel than he would have liked, but listening to the perfectly enunciated French roll off of Draco’s tongue was a gift all its own. 

 

The day was absolutely perfect, just as Theodore had come to expect, and by the time Narcissa returned to fetch Draco, Theodore was high on chocolate pastry and drunk on French literature and he knew that he had never felt as good as he did at that moment.

 

Neither boy had any inclination of what was looming in their not-so-distant future, nor did they realize that this would be one of the last birthdays that they would spend together in a very long time.

  
But **that** , is another story…

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The origin of the Motto on the fountain is unknown, although I will say that I remember this particular one used in the Draco Trilogy a zillion years ago, and that is where the inspiration comes from that you witness here. :D


	7. 1995

                        — _Hush, hush, I’m your prey, hanging on every word you say; I let you move right through me. Hush, hush._

 

If Theodore Nott had known that 1995 would be the last year he would spend his birthday with Draco Malfoy, perhaps he would have tried harder to hold onto it.

 

Perhaps he would have tried harder to hide them both from the darkness that was about to swallow them up.

 

“Father wont tell me a thing about what’s been going on at all and he’s rarely home these days. I caught mother crying in the billiard room on Monday.”  Draco speaks about his parents rather nonchalantly for the son of a rumored Death Eater.

 

Theodore and Draco _both_ know it’s not a rumor.

 

When Theodore frowned and peered down at Draco, the corner of the blond’s mouth curled into a smirk and he rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, Theodore. We are hardly children anymore, we both know it’s only a matter of time.”

 

Theodore turned Draco’s words over and over in his mind as they sat in silence for an extended moment, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they both _truly_ knew what was coming for them.  His fingertips brushed gently against Draco’s scalp, fingers parting as flaxen hair as soft as silk filtered through them.  Draco’s eyes shuttered and he sighed softly between barely parted lips, content to let the subject dry up for the time being.

 

Over the last year things had certainly changed between the two boys. It seemed that in just a handful of months the innocence of their youth had quickly slipped away and left in its hurried departure the picture of two teenage Slytherins with far too much wit for their own good. Sarcastic jibes and resistance had been replaced with subtle innuendos and not-so-subtle excuses to be as close to one another as possible. At first, it had been easy for Theodore to think it was all in his head. Draco had treated him no different than he always had, although even that had changed soon enough. Theodore quickly realized that Draco not only received his growingly affectionate behavior but also reciprocated it to an extent, and that often left him aching in ways that it never had in his short handful of years up until this point.

 

For his part, Draco appeared as unaffected as he generally did. His increasing worry about the state of his family was often overshadowed by his growing need to be close to Theodore. What he had yet to admit to anyone, most of all himself was that this had become more than just friendship. Draco’s bond with Theodore had eclipsed anything either boy could really understand, and although Draco would never say it out loud, Theodore Nott was everything to him.

 

“Do you think we’ll be alright?” Theodore’s fingertips had paused their methodical circles upon Draco’s scalp and he peered down at the head in his lap with seriousness in his expression that made Draco’s brow crease for the briefest of moments.

 

“What kind of question is that?” Draco peered up into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and arched a brow, scanning for the true explanation to the question in the other boy’s gaze.

 

For a long moment Theodore remained as he was, palms now planted firmly on either side of his seated form, peering down at the blond head in his lap. He didn’t mean to sound so morose, particularly to Draco, but the older he became the more difficult he found it _not_ to be.

 

“It’s nothing. How about I read you something, yeah?” The moment was gone after that and Theodore brushed all of his worry about their very uncertain future aside and reached for the book that lie forgotten in the grass beside them.   

 

Draco shifted slightly in Theodore’s lap and folded his hands across his abdomen, eyes sliding shut once again. “What do you fancy?” Theodore asked, while flipping through the pages of his latest Oscar Wilde collection.

 

“Surprise me.” Draco replied without opening his eyes, and when Theodore did just that and began to read, he couldn’t help but smile.

 

∞

 

March 15th 1995 was a dreadfully overcast Wednesday and it was as if Mother Nature herself could predict what was to come and had dressed accordingly.

 

Draco arrived on the front steps of Luckington Manor at precisely 10 am accompanied by his mother, just as he had for the last six years. He had a white pastry box from Hévin’s in one hand and a neatly wrapped package in the pocket of his cloak; as was customary. When Theodore opened the door for him they exchanged a _look_ that neither boy would be able to explain if asked outright.  Theodore led the way up the stairs to his bedroom and as he did every year, Draco carefully removed his cloak and took up his spot at the head of the bed, very close to Theodore’s pillows.

 

Theodore slid into his position at the foot of the bed and was presented with his birthday gift, which made him grin like an eight year-old. “Thank you,” He said as he took to carefully untying the ribbons and unfastening the wrappings, all under Draco’s watchful gaze.

 

Theodore had been quite sure that Draco would give him another book for his birthday and although he had been partially right, Draco had managed to genuinely surprise him yet again.

 

The gift was indeed a book; compact and leather-bound with much thicker paper inserts than modern literature generally possessed. “What is this?” Theodore’s question was more to himself than anything, and when he turned the book over in his hand and saw a blank cover staring back at him, he was still confused.

 

“Open it.” Theodore glanced up briefly at Draco as he spoke and smiled, nodding once before opening the book.

 

What Theodore had mistaken for a reading book was actually a picture book, or more accurately, a book _for_ pictures. Most of the slots where photographs were to be secured were empty and waiting to be filled, but there were two that were occupied and the one on the first page drew Theodore’s attention and widened his eyes as he peered down at it.

 

The first was a moving photograph of two little boys running through a garden; one blond, one brunet. Theodore smiled down at the picture from his past and a laugh escaped him when the photograph reset and the two boys were drawn back to the start.  “Where did you get this?” Theodore glanced up at Draco, searching those silver eyes that already hid so much from the world, for answers. He felt as if he was hanging in the balance, both feet dangling on either side of a thin line as he awaited Draco’s answer.

 

“Mother gave them to me.” Draco’s voice remained as steady and indifferent as ever but Theodore knew better than to take it at face value. He’d known Draco far too long for that.

 

It was a belated minute or two later when Theodore realized that Draco had implied there was more than one photograph and he began flipping through the pages in search of the next.  The picture he found affixed to the center of the album was not what he had been expecting and despite his very best efforts, he gasped rather loudly before clamping a hand over his mouth. 

  
Draco had been waiting for this moment since he’d handed Theodore the wrapped gift and had nearly held his breath in anticipation the entire time. Of course he knew it was risky to make such a move, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d been gifting Theodore with items that held meaning for years and the picture book was perhaps the most meaningful of them all. He watched the other boy stare down at the open book in his lap, blue eyes rimmed glassy as he peered down at the photograph that smiled back up at him. He was confident that Theodore would understand his gesture, once the shock of the moment had passed.

  
He was certain.

 

Theodore Nott had not laid eyes upon his mother’s face beyond the confines of his own mind for many years. One of the few things his father had done after his mother’s death that Theodore hadn’t entirely minded was to remove every image of her from Luckington Manor, which was far easier to deal with than to be faced with her falsely smiling face day after day; year after year. All of the emotions that he had worked so hard to suppress were now threatening to resurface as he stared down at the picture of his mother in his lap, and while a large part of him wanted to throttle Draco for doing such a thing, the other part of him understood why Draco had done what he had.

 

For a long time no words were spoken at all and it was by far, the quietest birthday Theodore Nott had endured in many years. Once the shock of seeing his mother’s face smiling up at him had begun to wear off and he could finally breath in a way that resembled normal, Theodore carefully closed the book and turned his attention to Draco.

 

“Your mother?” The fragmented inquiry was not lost on Draco and although it was not outwardly visible, he sighed quietly with relief.

 

“Yes.” Draco nodded but offered no more insight, which did not surprise Theodore at all.

 

“But…” There was a myriad of questions on the tip of Theodore’s tongue. So many things that he wanted to know about Draco’s gift and Draco’s mother and how she had come to possess a picture of _his_ mother. Everything he had fought so hard to bury deep inside of himself was now bubbling on his surface and threatening to spill over and although he trusted Draco more than anyone else in the world, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted the other boy to see him like this.

 

“I’m sorry, if you don’t like it. I thought you would.” Draco’s apology was void of the usual indifference and it struck Theodore as strange, and oddly touching somehow.  

 

He didn’t want the other boy to feel badly about the gift. Theodore knew that Draco had always taken great care with choosing his gifts and they were always the most thoughtful gestures, but he couldn’t help the way that the picture of his mother affected him.  “I do like it, I just wasn’t expecting that.” Theodore’s voice was far shakier than Draco’s was and he let out a nervous laugh and carded fingers through his hair. The picture book felt like molten lava slowly burning a hole in his lap and although he was itching to remove it, he did not touch it at all.

 

Later, after Draco returned to Malfoy manor, Theodore would lie on his stomach in his bed and stare at the photograph of Esperanza for hours without moving. He would think about the short span of time that he got to spend with his mother and he would cry himself to sleep atop the picture book, and when he woke up he would close it up and put it away with the rest of the treasures Draco had given him and he would think it was the possibly the best one of all.

 

“Let’s have some cake, yeah?” Theodore smiles at Draco and attempts to lighten the mood and Draco takes the hint and springs into action. “Make a wish,” Draco says, smiling as he hands over a perfectly frosted French artisan pastry. Theodore smears a fingertip across the top of the cake as it balances on an open palm and his smile turns mischievous as he reaches his chocolate-y finger towards Draco.  “Hey, watch the clothing.” Draco’s eyes narrow slightly as he reaches out to rebuff Theodore’s attempt to soil his shirt, which really only serves to make Theodore want to do it more.

 

“You wouldn’t deny me on my birthday, would you?” Theodore arches a brow at Draco and bats his lashes, which do very little to thwart Draco’s attempts.  “I absolutely would.” The blond assures him with a nod and then they both laugh and the mood is effectively lightened.

 

∞

 

The summer of ’95 had been emotionally enlightening for both boys. It was July when Draco wounded Theodore during a particularly _daring_ fencing match and had subsequently patched him up with a sloppy cauterizing spell. There was something about seeing his best friend lying on the ground bleeding at his hand that shook Draco that day. He had been terrified for a number of reasons and in the end he had been more than a little relieved that it hadn’t turned out worse than it possibly could have. 

 

After that came the sleepover at Luckington Manor that would forever change both boys. Love is a difficult thing to process when you are fifteen and although Draco has only admitted his love to himself, it will be short lived.

 

The last time that Draco sees Theodore that summer is a warm day in August and he feels sick the entire time. Theodore is not stupid, he senses that something is off but he ignores it because unlike Draco, Theodore has no one to threaten him and tell him that what he feels is wrong. When Theodore kisses Draco on the blanket beneath the stars at Malfoy Manor he effectively breaks their bond clean in half without even realizing it. This moment will be something that will haunt both boys for years to come, no matter how much running they do.

 

A war is coming.

  
A war that will bring terror and leave death in its wake, and Draco Malfoy has never felt more alone than he did the day that Theodore Nott exited his life.

 

                       

                              — _Hush, hush little one. Don’t bother howling at the moon, because the moon can’t hear you. Hush, hush._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics at the start and the finish of this chapter are humbly borrowed from "Hush" by The Limousines. If you've never had the pleasure, I highly recommend. Youtube is your friend. ;)
> 
> Also, all mentions of Theodore's mother are taken directly from his history as written by Unkissed. <3


	8. 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where are you now that I need you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've only just realized this morning that I've completely fucked up this entire series. Theoodre's birthday would have fallen during school and I've been writing them as if they were on summer holiday. Major face-desk moment!
> 
> Anyways, I tweaked the beginning of this chapter to reflect my epiphany, I apologize for my dumb. 
> 
> As always, none of this (fuck ups or otherwise) would be possible without my muse and writing partner in all things, Unkissed.

_—Where are you now that I need you?_

 

By the time 1996 is upon him, Draco Malfoy has already lost the last remaining traces of his adolescence. It has become increasingly clear that war will be inevitable and Draco’s family is at the very heart of that war. It doesn’t matter what _his_ thoughts and feelings are because they do not matter and so he simply does not entertain them. 

 

For the first time in many years Draco spends March fifteenth alone; or as alone as a person can be when they are trapped in a castle with hundreds of other people. Although he isn’t spending Theodore’s birthday with him, it doesn’t stop him from bitterly considering what sort of gift he would give the boy if they were still on speaking terms. Perhaps a punch in the mouth for being such a selfish prat would be a thoughtful gift, or maybe a spoiled petit’ cake that represents their ruined friendship.

 

In the end Draco hides in the library and pretends to concentrate on his Potions homework, although truthfully the entire afternoon is spent on daydreaming of better times. The absence of Theodore in his life is like an infection that is slowly spreading and although he tries his best to ignore it, Draco wonders if there is even a cure for this sort of thing.

 

By the time Pansy locates him the day is thankfully nearly complete, and when they enter the Slytherin common room arm in arm, Draco averts his gaze from the small gathering of his friends who are seated around Theodore sharing slices of chocolate gateaux.

 

Draco lies awake behind the drawn curtains of his four-poster for a long time, silently listening as his dorm mates shuffle in one by one. When Theodore enters his gaze immediately cuts to Draco’s bed and the pain that stabs at his heart is a sensation that he will associate with Draco Malfoy for many years to come.

 

                                                                                                        ∞

 

“You’re not trying hard enough, boy.” The gritty sound of Draco’s Aunt Bellatrix’s voice echoes around the circular room they are standing in and although he shows no outward emotion at all, his insides twist with fear.

 

“Sorry, Aunt.” Draco has the sense to bow his head in an acceding manner when he addresses Bellatrix, who peers intently at him with beady blackened eyes for an extended moment before rising up her chin in a seemingly satisfied gesture. 

 

“Apologies won’t save your life, boy. Again.” Bellatrix takes Draco by the shoulders and shakes him firmly as she speaks.

 

Before Draco can take another breath his aunt is on him, forcing herself into his mind while he scrambles desperately to keep her out. Occlumency is not something that the average teenager should have to learn, but Draco Malfoy is anything but the average teenager.

 

In just a few short months Malfoy Manor has been transformed from Draco’s family home into something he scarcely recognizes on most days. Since his father’s failure at the Ministry and subsequent incarceration, The Dark Lord has seen fit to take over residency at the manor and in his brief stay, has managed to suck out any remaining vestiges of life that the old house may have been clinging to in order to make a proper head quarters and safe haven for his band of Death Eaters.

 

Draco’s carefree days spent on the grounds have been replaced with lessons in occlumency with his Aunt and watching his mother stand helplessly by as her home and her family are ripped apart from the inside out. Summer vacation is replaced with exhausting practice of non-verbal casting and subservient tasks for fanatical followers that he is expected to fill, without question. There was a time when Draco Malfoy was on top of the world. In 1996 he is lucky to make it through any given day without being laughed at or spit upon simply for being the product of failure.

 

Draco Malfoy is sixteen years old when he is forced down onto his knees before The Dark Lord, and although he tries his very best to at least _appear_ brave, he looks very much like the scared little boy that still hides inside of him.

 

Being branded with a dark mark affords Draco many new experiences, none of which he wants or asks for. Free time is not something that he is often granted, but it is one of the last nights of his _holiday_ that he manages to escape the suffocating confines of the manor for just a little while.

 

By the time Draco finds his way through the dense coppice at the edge of Malfoy estate and to a particular crumbling fountain, the moon is high overhead and the night air is moist with the impending change of seasons. When he stands at the basin and runs a fingertip across the worn stone edifice he is reminded of better days in his not so distant past and it pulls his features into a frown. Draco knows that it is useless to look into the past but he does it anyways because his future is something that he would rather not think about; at least for one night. He isn’t sure how long he stands there staring into the depths of stagnant water, but a sudden displacement of air beside him does not go unnoticed.

 

“Punishment is freedom.” Draco instinctively freezes up when Voldemort’s tone cuts through the moonlight and he inwardly curses himself for allowing his weaknesses to show.

 

“I apologize, my Lord.” Draco says as he bows his head, his tone void of any emotion whatsoever.

 

The Dark Lord is silent for a long moment that feels like sheer torture to Draco but he does not dare move an inch, instead waiting patiently to be instructed. He has learned quickly that submission is the _only_ way that he can possibly come out of this war alive, although he still isn’t sure if _living_ is something he even strives for anymore.

 

When Voldemort speaks, his words chill Draco right down to his core. “Why do you seek this place?” Draco can feel those reptilian eyes on him, scorching him without even trying and he swallows thickly and opens his mouth to reply. “I don’t know.” He responds, perhaps a bit more truthfully than intended.

 

Draco turns away from the fountain and drops to his knees at Voldemort’s feet in a vain effort to save himself and as he bows his head, he feels like a stranger in familiar skin. He will never know that Voldemort’s relationship with his family runs far deeper than the failures of his father. Draco will never be told the story of the decaying fountain or the reasons that it still stands, despite the time that passes it by on all sides. It is right here that The Dark Lord will look down upon Draco Malfoy and feel nothing but disgust because, like his father, he is not worthy of the Malfoy name. 

 

“I have a task for you,” He says, and the sheer coldness of his voice makes Draco shudder involuntarily.

 

After this night at the fountain Draco Malfoy will no longer fight the pull of his inevitable demise. He will return to Hogwarts with the weight of an impossible task crushing his shoulders and by the time March fifteenth finds him again, he will be a fugitive and shell of his former self.

 

 

_—I need you the most._


	9. 1997

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive taken some liberties with the timeframes of some canon events here because the exact dates are not known. 
> 
> I can't believe it's been almost a year since I started this little project for my very favorite blue-eyed boy. We love you Theodore, even when we are hurting you. 0:)
> 
> Rosaline Dolohov is the creation and property of Bex and has been gratuitously borrowed with respect. 
> 
> As always, endless worship, love, and respect to my partner and my bestie, Unkissed.

_—I’m just a lost boy, a lost boy_

 

1997 is a year that Draco Malfoy is not sure he will survive. In a surprisingly short span of time he has shed every single vestige of his youth and is left with a person he scarcely recognizes when he looks in the mirror. He is only sixteen years old when he kneels at the feet of Lord Voldemort and takes the dark mark upon his arm, surrounded by a circle of cloaked figures that all laugh at his pain. Draco has learned quickly in this new phase of his life that his smart mouth will not be tolerated, and as such, submission and obedience are his new best friends.

 

The summer leading up to his sixth year at Hogwarts is spent performing menial tasks for sloppy Death Eaters that have now invaded his family home. While his father sits rotting in prison, Draco and his mother live in a constant state of fear that never goes away, not even when he sleeps.

 

It is a balmy summer night in 1996 when The Dark Lord finds Draco at a decaying fountain, hidden far in the depths of Malfoy Estate. He looks down upon Draco from behind reptilian eyes that gleam red and he sees nothing but failure. Draco is yet another son not worthy of the Malfoy name and it disgusts the man to even stand in Draco’s presence. When he sets an impossible task upon Draco’s shoulders he is expecting Draco to fail. Voldemort does not need a reason to kill Draco and his family and he does not entertain ideas on why it is that he gifts these people with opportunity after opportunity to please him. Draco would never know that he had Abraxas to thank for his life, although at sixteen, Draco could hardly call this a life at all.

 

Draco spends the rest of his summer holiday stressing over the task of killing the headmaster because he isn’t sure he can do what has been asked of him. Narcissa also isn’t sure that her son can carry out this terrible deed and takes matters into her own hands, unbeknownst to Draco. The start of his Sixth year at Hogwarts is wrought with impending doom and the fear of failure. Draco is a shell of his former self and he is no longer capable of hiding the obvious signs from his friends and fellow Slytherins.

Hogwart’s quickly becomes an extension of the prison his life has become and although he wants nothing more than to fulfill his task and please The Dark Lord, a small part of him is hoping he will fail because he doesn’t think he can survive a war all alone.

 

Draco’s friends never know where he disappears to day after day; they never bother to ask what he’s doing because maybe they are afraid of his answer. He has become alarmingly thin and the shadows that sit beneath his eyes are like a cautionary tale of things yet to come that none of them really want to face. Life moves on around Draco while he is stuck static, desperately trying to repair a set of magical cabinets that would either make him or break him. He spends so much time in the Room of Requirement that he is saved from watching his friends carry on without him. Of course they worry about him but really, when has Draco Malfoy ever accepted or _needed_ anyone’s worry?

 

Pansy has begun to draw away from him because she is scared of what he might do if pushed too far. Daphne tells him he is an idiot and throws teacups at him whenever she has the opportunity, which is more often than one might think. Blaise does his best to soothe him in those dulcet tones that Draco had appreciated at one time, but now they just grate on his nerves. And then there is Theodore…

 

It has been over a year since Draco and Theodore had stopped talking to one another, and although he would never admit it, it still hurt. Draco tried his best not to even look at Theodore because it was easier that way, but sometimes, even in the midst of fighting for his right to survive, he would catch glimpses of the boy who had always promised to be there for him. There was a time in his life when Draco had been certain that Theodore Nott would always be a part of his life, like an extension of himself, but that time was gone now.

 

The ease with which Theodore appeared to have cut Draco out of his life hurt more than any amount of torture he had endured in the last year. It was impossible to discern if the separation even affected Theodore because he didn’t give Draco even an inch. Sometimes Draco would catch himself glaring at Theodore at the opposite end of the Slytherin table in the great hall during meals and he would scowl and lower his gaze and quietly remind himself that Theodore Nott didn’t care about anyone but himself. It was evident in the way that he so carelessly shattered their friendship with that stupid kiss, and it was still evident now, in the way he seemed so enamored with Rosaline Dolohov.

 

There was nowhere in the castle that Draco could hide to escape the visions of Theodore and Rosa that had burned themselves into the backs of his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes he saw them together; saw the look in Theodore’s eyes when he looked at her—The same look he used to look at Draco with. It was impossible to keep up appearances with Theodore flaunting Rosa in his face and the threat of failure hanging over his head and so he didn’t, and eventually he was given a wide berth whenever he was present. In 1997 Draco couldn’t even laugh ironically at the glaringly obvious fact that he had become the outcast of Slytherin. The fucking Slytherin Prince himself was now a pariah in the eyes of those who shared his house and he didn’t care, he couldn’t find it in him _to_ care. He was so close with the cabinets that he could taste it and as he spent hours upon hours crouched down at the foot of the vanishing cabinet he pushed himself to succeed because it was really the only thing he had left.

 

_Harmony binds suffering._

 

The spell, spoken in Latin, would ultimately be Draco’s savior and after months of anguish and fear, all of his work would eventually pay off and he would feel a tiny shred of relief—Relief that would be short lived.

  
Of course Draco was aware it was Theodore’s birthday, he’d been coveting March fifteenth for so many years that the date had been permanently emblazoned on his fucking soul. This would be the second year that Draco and Theodore spent their birthdays apart in a long time, and although Draco never outwardly showed it, he was completely gutted.

 

The moment he stepped through the narrow dungeon passageway into the Slytherin Common room he knew it was a terrible mistake.

 

Draco’s steely gaze immediately fell upon the group of his former friends, gathered around a small table that had been dragged over by the fireplace. Theodore was sitting in a green velvet chintz chair with Rosa in his lap, and his smile was so genuine and so happy that it felt like a knife in Draco’s chest. Their friends sat in a half circle around him, all patiently waiting for him to blow out a collection of candles that had been stuffed into a chocolate cake. Draco didn’t want to be here, he _couldn’t_ be here. Not now. He willed his feet to move; to turn heel and carry him back out of the common room before he was spotted but they were stuck firmly where he stood, rigid and watchful.

 

“Make a wish, Theo.” Daphne said as she inched the blazing cake closer to him. Pansy clapped her hands together and nodded, and Rosa leaned very close to Theodore’s ear and whispered something undoubtedly dirty that made him blush.

 

Draco felt as if the rug had been tugged out from beneath his feet and he was falling without promise of impact. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making any sound and when Theodore wrapped his arms around the mound of female in his lap and leaned forward to blow out his candles, Draco felt vaguely sick.

 

Theodore would never know that Draco had witnessed this moment because Draco would never reveal it, not even years down the road when they had reconnected.

 

When he finally manages to slip away undetected he runs blindly through the drafty corridors of the castle because he feels like he is ready to burst. It is an act of desperation that sends him stumbling into the unused loo on the first floor. Of course he’d heard the stories of the ghost that haunted the girls bathroom, even if he only half believed them. The first time he came face to face with Myrtle he was breathless and wild-eyed and she was clearly fascinated. Not many living souls came into her bathroom and as such, she was quick in her attempts at striking up a friendship with the pale, pointed boy who looked closer to death that she had ever felt.

 

If someone would have told Draco that one day his only friend would be a spotty teenage ghost he would have laughed wildly, but when Draco was just sixteen years old, that is exactly what happened. Myrtle’s bathroom quickly became Draco’s escape when he wasn’t sequestered in the Room of Requirement and the ghost girl became his solitary, marginally corporeal friend. It was easier than one might think to seek comfort in someone who was already dead. Draco couldn’t hurt Myrtle and in turn, she was not afraid to speak candidly about his [possibly] impending death. Draco found himself seeking Myrtle’s comfort more and more as June closed in, and it was after a particularly frustrating night with the vanishing cabinet that Harry Potter followed him into Myrtle’s bathroom. When it was all said and done Draco lie in a pool of water feeling like he was floating and he had never welcomed death more than he did at that moment. Myrtle was shrieking “ _MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”_ And Potter looked stunned as he scrambled across the stream of bloody water and dropped down next to him.

 

Of course Draco wasn’t lucky enough to die that day in the bathroom, he was even a failure at death.

 

It is the culmination of memories better forgotten that Draco uses as the push he needs to point his shaking wand at the cabinet on the night of June 30th 1997 and mutter the spell that would alter his life in ways that he could never repair.

 

_Harmonis Nectere Passus_

The words pass over his chapped and abused lips as his eyes fall shut, and it is only the distinctive sound of scraping on the inside of the cabinet moments later that pulls them back open.

 

From the first moment Draco had unleashed his fellow Death Eaters upon the school to the final moment atop the astronomy tower, he felt like he was looking at the world through waterlogged goggles. Draco pointed a shaking hand at Dumbledore, who was looking less than fit as he leaned against the wall of the tower. Draco’s wand slipped in his sweaty grasp and he shook his head, wishing the old fool would shut up so he could get on with hit.

 

“I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me, he’ll kill my whole family!” Draco’s voice was like a screech that cut through the muffled silence and his bottom lip quivered with the fear he had tried so hard to shove down into his subconscious. Dumbledore spoke calmly to him as if he wasn’t the one with a wand pointing at him and it tore at Draco’s insides and jumbled his thoughts to the point that his wand hand lowered just a fraction. There was nothing Draco would have liked more than to believe the Headmaster could protect him and his mother, but optimism isn’t really an option when you are in his position and so he shakes his head violently instead.

 

Dumbledore is the first living, breathing human that Draco has ever watched die and it is a vision that he will never be able to scrub out of his memory; no matter how hard he tries. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t his hand that cast the curse; he was as much to blame as anyone else.

 

When Draco flees the grounds with Snape into the night he has no way of knowing that it would be the last time he would share Hogwarts with Theodore and he will feel more alone than he has ever felt in his entire existence.

 

When Theodore leaves Hogwarts in 1997 he does not return. He never once stops to consider if his running away is cowardice or genius. Theodore feels like he has reached his end here and that he has nothing left, and when war comes to stake its claim Theodore will be halfway around the world which still wont really be far enough to escape the memories that will always haunt him.

 

 

 

_—Not ready to be found_


	10. 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1998 is a dark year, perhaps the darkest. No way around it really. :)
> 
> Brighter days are ahead, I promise. Happy birthday Theodore, do you still love me??
> 
> Worship and love to my bestie, Unkissed, who is probably the only other person in the world who can appreciate the pain displayed here to the fullest extent.

_—Are you really gonna love me when I’m gone?_

 

 

March fifteenth 1998 was a Sunday. Draco will always remember this particular day of the year because, despite his best efforts of forgetting Theodore, he is completely and totally unable.

 

After the events from the previous school year had transpired and rendered Draco a criminal, he had thought he would never return to Hogwarts. Of course by the time the following year had begun, it was no longer a hushed secret that Voldemort had returned and everything had begun to change for the worse.

 

Draco’s seventh year at Hogwarts was not really much different than the one before, with one minor difference—Theodore Nott.

 

Theodore had fled England after the end of term, or so Draco had heard, second hand. Of course Theodore hadn’t the decency to tell him as much himself, Draco had to hear it from Blaise aboard the Hogwart’s express.  

 

By that time he had become rather accustomed to the static buzzing in his ears that the mention of Theodore brought about, and although he remained very still and said not a word on the subject, he still excused himself to the bathroom compartment as soon as was polite to do so.

 

Blaise watched Draco’s retreating form with a mixture of pity and sadness. Anyone who bothered to pay attention could tell that things hadn’t been right with Theodore and Draco since their falling out. He hated to be the one to tell Draco such things, especially when things were clearly already so difficult for him. But at the same time Blaise was his friend and felt that it was his duty to be honest with Draco, and so he was. He was one of the few people who actually _knew_ Draco Malfoy and he knew that the news of Theodore’s departure of England would somehow devastate him, even if he would never come out and say it.

 

Draco silently counted his steps down the narrow corridor of the train, doing his very best to remain outwardly calm as he closed the distance between himself and the privacy of a bathroom. There were so many people milling about and he ignored them all, his dull grey eyes fixed only on the locking door straight ahead. Inside the bathroom Draco’s expressionless mask fell away and he leaned against the back of the locked door, chin resting against his chest. He didn’t know how to process the information about Theodore because he still had not grown accustomed to the idea of them being apart. Theodore had been his best friend since they were eight years old, a stupid misplaced kiss shouldn’t have had the power to tear that all apart.

 

Except that is precisely what had happened. Theodore had mistaken Draco’s quiet dread for enthusiasm and had effectively ripped one bonded unit into two broken halves and hadn’t even bothered to try and plaster anything up. Of course Theodore was more than likely devastated, Draco knew him well enough to predict his actions and behavior, but it didn’t matter. Nothing matters when you are truly alone in the world.

 

Draco splashed cold water on his face and stared at his reflection for a very long time, trying to discern if he was real or imagined. He thought he might cry if he still had the ability, although he wasn’t sure what that would solve. He couldn’t even blame Theodore for leaving, that was perhaps the worst part of all. If he was being honest he envied Theodore for having the strength to leave before it became impossible, because he knew that he himself would never be so strong; he only wished that his friend had had the forethought to take him with.

 

Hogwarts was a very different place without Albus Dumbledore. That is one of the first things Draco noticed upon his return to the school. No one was safe; certainly not Draco. All he wanted was to make it through his last school year in one piece, although he wasn’t sure that even _that_ was possible. The disappearance of Harry Potter and the impending war were enough to set anyone on edge because at the end of the day, no one could ever really be certain that they would make it out alive. Every night Draco climbed into his same four poster bed in the seventh year dorm and every night he would cast a glance at the vacant bed where Theodore used to sleep and he would wonder what his friend was doing out there in the world. Of course, the sentiment of the moment never lasted long and Draco would draw his curtains closed and roll over and silently pray that Theodore Nott was miserable wherever it was that he had run to.

 

Theodore’s birthday came while he was somewhere in Bali, running from a past he could not escape and diving headfirst into any distractions he could find. He felt broken and alone and now more than ever, he knew that he needed to look forward rather than behind.

 

Draco Malfoy would be perfectly fine without him, and even if he wasn’t, how was that Theodore’s problem?

 

Draco had made it painfully clear that he didn’t want Theodore in his life; at least that is what Theodore told himself at least five times during any given day. His immediate plan was to keep moving so he didn’t have to stop and think about his life or his problems. His long-term plan was nonexistent and that is precisely the way he preferred it. He was eighteen years old now and no longer under the rule of his father. Theodore thought this was quite the accomplishment and he felt freer than he had in a very long time. He sat at a bar in some hole in the wall pub and nursed an exotic drink whose name he could not pronounce. _The world is my mother fucking oyster._ He thought smugly to himself, the warmth and disorientation that only alcohol could provide, effectively rendering him somewhat giggly. _Screw Draco Malfoy_. He added for emphasis, although it really only served as a harsh reminder of the one thing he wanted the most.

 

It was late into the afternoon when Theodore decided to mark his birthday and his first real stop of his journey in a very _permanent_ way. He spends the better part of the evening crying in agony for reasons that have nothing at all to do with what he had left behind in England. The _bunga terung_ sits static on the underside of his left forearm, raw and tender in an absolute depiction of everything that was inherently Theodore. The traditional tattoo and its specific location may have been representations of the _life_ that was stretched out before him, but it also served as a reminder of what could have been. Theodore was not sure if there would ever come a time that he could forgive himself for what he’d done, but he knew that he wasn’t going back, despite the silver eyes that haunted his dreams.

 

Draco spent Theodore’s birthday alone, like he had spent the entirety of his seventh year at Hogwarts, save from the occasional awkward and stilted conversation with Blaise. Gone were the days of the Slytherins closing ranks and coming together. Draco was an unreachable island now and no one bothered to even try anymore.

 

Despite his anger and his hurt, he found himself thinking about Theodore more and more, specifically in the absence of any sort of distraction. It was late in the afternoon when Draco paced three times outside the Room of Requirement, silently pleading for a proper distraction. He had no real idea what the room was capable of or if it would always be that massive storage space filled with junk. When a door materialized in the stonewall before him he reached for the knob, pausing to glance down the abandoned corridor in both directions before stepping inside.

 

The room, much to his surprise, was not a massive storage space at all. Draco paused in the middle of a large circular room and turned around in a slow circle, taking it all in. It amazed him that a magical room like this could even exist; much less anticipate what the seeker required and provide it. Draco had asked for a distraction and the room had given it to him, in the form of a fencing arena.

 

A chill swept down his spine as he shed his school robes and tie, tossing them carelessly on a wooden bench before taking up a foil and giving it an experimental flick. The last time Draco had partaken in the sport seemed like a distant memory to him now. Heart wrenching visions of Theodore lying on a white padded floor with blood seeping through his shirts made Draco feel vaguely sick and he forced the images aside and stalked towards the sparring dummy in the center of the room.

 

Since he was a child, Draco had enjoyed fencing. It had served as an excellent disciplinary tool for him as well as the perfect way to expel energy and work out frustrations. He regarded his static partner through narrowed eyes and took a step back, foil raised as he prepared to engage. Fencing, when executed properly, was a beautiful dance of blade and blood. Draco had always danced better on the padded floor of a fencing arena than he had anywhere else, but today was not that day.

 

For the better part of two hours he swung recklessly and wild at the sparring dummy, twisting and shouting and pummeling the thing until he was bent over and gasping for air. His hair was plastered to his head and every muscle in his body was singing with a burn that made him feel alive for the first time in two years. The taut lines of his shoulders shook beneath his damp button down and the clatter of his foil hitting the ground was loud enough to echo off the hollowed walls.

 

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and breathed slowly through his nose, desperate to regain the carefully constructed control that he had worked so hard to affix every single moment of every single day. He wasn’t sure if it was Theodore’s absence or the inevitable war that felt so final to him but before he could stop it, tears stung his eyes and he hated himself, even as he dropped to his knees and held his head in his hands. He was not strong, he had never been strong, and it terrified him because all of the strength he had once possessed was gone—fled from England and from him too. Draco was scared; he didn’t want to die before he’d even had a chance to live, even if that is really the only outcome he could foresee for himself.

 

March fifteenth 1998 came to end like it never had before. For the first time in ten years Theodore and Draco were in very different places doing _very_ different things. While Theodore was doing his best to forget his past, Draco couldn’t help but remember because despite the pain, his memories were really all he had left.

 

After Theodore’s birthday came and went it was really only a matter of time before war came. Draco will never know how he escaped with his life when so many others were not so lucky. The absolution of his solitude will follow him through his arrest, his short stay in Azkaban prison, and his trial before the Wizengamot. When he sits in the middle of that courtroom, magically bound to a chair he will glance up at the crowd of onlookers all gathered to watch him fall apart and he will not see what he so desperately had been hoping for.

 

The bluest eyes he had ever seen…

 

 

_—I fear you wont; I fear you don’t._

 

 


	11. 1999-2000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't feel the need to delve too deeply into this time period, seeing as I've already written about it at length. If, for some reason you would like to read about that, you can find the entire story contained with the series "The Death of Draco Malfoy."
> 
> As always, endless worship and adoration for my bestie, Unkissed. Your Theodore means more to me than all the stars in the sky.
> 
> Happy Birthday, Theodore.

 

 

 

_For two years he will hide._

_Trapped within the walls of his prison._

_This prison has neither walls nor locks_

_But he is stuck in time still, a prisoner to his past; his present and his future._

_For two years he will be unable to stop himself from thinking of Theodore and for two years he will feel numb and only half-alive._

_He has come out of the war a free man, but he will never be free._

_Not until he leaves this broken place._

 

 

Draco spends two years hiding within the walls of Malfoy manor. After the war and the trials and all the other shit that came raining down on his head after the defeat of The Dark Lord, Draco was left with nothing. His life is something he wasn’t even sure he wanted anymore, but he couldn’t even get that right.

 

In time, his mother would take up the task of orchestrating his life once again; she had always been so _terribly_ good at it, after all. She would steer him into a loveless marriage that would never reach him because he was already gone from this place. He would never be able to bring himself to touch his wife, much less consummate their marriage, and shortly after their first anniversary as husband and wife, he would flee England and not return for many years; chasing a dream and a ghost of his past that he could never get over.

 

March fifteenth still managed to come every year, and despite how he tried, Draco could not ignore that single day of the year that used to mean everything to him.

 

A conversation of chance with Daphne Greengrass would eventually set into motion, a series of events that would forever alter the course of the countless lives that were intertwined with Draco’s, and by the time the next year and the next birthday had caught up to him, Draco will finally be where he always belonged.

 

 

_—And all I really want is to start again_


	12. 2001

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited and it feels so good!
> 
> For Unkissed and for Theodore, always.

March 15th 2001 was a Thursday. This will always be significant; _always._

You think you can feel him in your dreams, the ghost of his touch sliding over your skin and the whisper of his kiss against your mouth. Your eyes move beneath sheathed lids, trapped as you are in the delicate embrace of waking sleep. A soft sound of approval escapes you and you smile because this pleases you; even in slumber.

 

When your eyes flutter open it is early morning, you can tell by the thin shadows still cast across the room. You smile and drop your head to the side to look at him, still sleeping soundly beside you. This still feels like a dream to you somehow, even though you’ve been reunited for nearly thirty days. From that first moment you found him, sitting in a café in Morocco, you had known that this was what you wanted; what you needed. So much has passed between you but in that first moment, you felt infinite.

 

Theodore mumbles in his sleep and sighs softly and you are unable to help yourself when you reach up to trace the line of his jaw with the pad of your thumb. He has always been your most beautiful treasure, even as a scrawny, eight year old boy. He was still yours and still beautiful and you have no idea how you had survived your time apart. You feel settled and complete by his side and despite all of the shit you’ve left behind, you know that there is nowhere else that you belong than right here.

 

Your movements are careful and light as you slide out of bed and cross the room to an elongated window that looked out over a tempest ocean. It was an unspoken agreement between you that you would chase the oceans across the entire world and although this place was only the first stop of many to come, you felt as if you could easily call this city and this place _home_.

 

A brilliant sunrise is being born beyond the gauzy curtains that you hold aside, slate gaze fixated on the horizon. You don’t need anything more than this, you never have.

You leave him sleeping when you quietly slip out the front door of the hotel room and disappear into a freshly waking city. You make quick work of your errands, because although pressing as they are, you cannot stand to be away from him for very long at all. You visit a lively marketplace and choose your wares with precise care.

 

_The Book. The caffeine. The chocolate._

By the time you find your way back to the hotel you know that he is awake, not because of the hour, but because of the feeling inside your soul. You are connected on a level that most will never understand, two boys born from war and bonded by love.

 

You knock on the door even though you have a key, a smirk quirking your lips. Almost immediately you hear the sound of footsteps from within the room and your smirk morphs into a smile as the door flies open. “I thought I’d lost you already.” He says, trying to hide the edge in his voice.

 

You shake your head and say “Never,” and when he expels a shaky sigh of relief, you completely understand.

 

Now that he knows you haven’t run away from him he is able to relax, and he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, eyeing you suspiciously. “Where did you go?” He asks with a raised brow, a partially depleted cigarette dangling from between his lips.

 

You smile at him again and take a step closer to the open door, eyes never leaving him. “You didn’t think I’d let you spend your birthday alone, did you?” You murmur quietly, reaching up with a gentle hand that does not caress so much as it plucks the cigarette right out of his mouth and transfers it to your own.

 

Theodore stares at you and blinks several times, quietly amazed at how easily you both seemed to fall back into your roles. He looks just like he did the first time you said that too him and it twists your heart into a painful little ball. “I wasn’t sure you remembered,” He whispers dryly, pushing away from the doorframe and melting against you.

 

A soft sigh escapes you as your arms wind around him, holding him tightly. You want to tell him how you’ve never forgotten; how there wasn’t a single day that went by since you were apart that you had not thought of him in some form or another. You wanted to explain that his birthdays meant just as much to you as they did to him and that the years you were estranged were the worst of your life. You want to kiss him wildly and tell him that you have always loved him and that you are terribly sorry for ever allowing him to think that you did not. But in the end, you settle for an honest “I never forgot,” and let the rest remain unsaid.

 

His eyes are shining with unshed tears as he hooks a bent finger in your belt loop and tugs you inside the hotel room, kicking the door closed with his foot as his arms wind around your neck. He presses himself so firmly against you that nearly every inch of him is sealed against you and your breath catches and you wonder if there will ever be a time that it will not. When he kisses you he pours every ounce of the love he has carried around with him into it and when you break apart you are left gasping and renewed.

 

“So,” Theodore breathes against your mouth, pulling back just enough to gaze up at you. “Did you bring me a surprise?”

 

You know that he is being facetious, but you smirk anyways. “Actually, yes.” You say casually, and when he arches a brow your smirk deepens.

 

He peers at you a long moment, tongue caught between his teeth as if trying to recall a distant memory. “Unless,” He said finally, eyes alight with mischief. “You’re surprise enough?” A soft chuckle escapes him around the words and you understand because you also remember the first birthday you ever spent with him.

 

“It’s true, obviously,” You quip back, giving your hair a little fluff for emphasis. “But, today I’ve brought more than just my illustrious presence.”

 

He watches you curiously as you reach into your coat pocket and retrieve several shrunken packages, which you take to the small table in the seating area of the room. Theodore trails after you while lighting another cigarette, infinitely curious as to what you were up to.

 

You kneel down at the low table and he watches you, unsure of what to make of this moment. You have your wand now and you point it at the first shrunken package, silently returning it to its normal size. “Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you, I hope you know that.” You say, glancing up from the satchel of freshly ground coffee beans to peer at him.

  
Theodore’s breath hitches, but he remains silent as you continue. “Your birthdays were the hardest for me, not knowing where you were; what you were doing. “ Your words are tempered with the weight of the moment and you flick your wand again, leaving behind a pink pastry box tied neatly with twine. When you pull the wrappings away a small, artisan chocolate cake is left behind, which you hope is still his favorite.

 

You glance up at him again and smile, softer this time. You can see his eyes shining more prominently now and you frown, because it was not your intention to make Theodore cry on his birthday. “You are in and of my soul. Never forget that.” You return the last package to its normal size and quickly scoop up the book, which you hold out to him with a steadied hand.

 

Theodore knows. He _knows_ what the book is before he takes it and the tears that had threatened before come now, spilling swiftly and silently from the corners of his eyes. This was too much, _Draco_ was too much, and he had no idea how to wrap his head around it all. He had spent so much time, _wasted_ so much time on telling himself that Draco didn’t matter and that he didn’t care; to have those things quelled now was shocking and heartbreaking and deeply touching somehow, too.

 

There are no words as Theodore quickly closes the distance between you and drops into your lap in a messy, wet heap. His arms clamp around your neck and his body shakes against you as he holds you deathly close. If you did not know any better you might say that he was trying to force your two bodies into one singular vessel, but it was not necessary, not really. You had always shared a singular vessel; even if neither one of you had ever realized it.

 

“I never meant…” He whispers between kisses that taste like tears against your lips. “I never…” He tries again, and you smooth a hand down his spine and tell him it is okay with a gentle smile.

 

For a long time there are no more words spoken between you and you revel in every second that ticks past that you have him in your arms. You want it to always be just like this, and now, more than ever, you know that he feels the same.

 

Later, you will lie on the rug by the fire, Theodore resting in the bend of your arm while you read Oscar Wilde aloud. A half-eaten chocolate cake and empty coffee mugs will sit abandoned on the table and he will think that this has been the best birthday of all his life.

 

The time that has passed between you will mean nothing now that you are together, and by the time March 15th has escaped you for another year, you will have gifted him in every way that you possibly can, and then some. He is your moon and your blood and your very life, and although it had taken you a long time to find your way, you know that you are finally home.


	13. 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time skip because, why not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this as my yearly tribute to my favorite fictional boy's birthday and since I am a slag, I never finished it. Yesterday I opened it up in honor of my second favorite fictional boy's birthday and decided to finish it. 
> 
> So, happy belated birthday, boys. I'm sorry I left you hanging for so very long. 
> 
> As always, endless love and adoration to my cheerleader, muse, and bestie, Unkissed, without whom, none of this shit would even be possible.

_— “And even now, as I sit here, gazing out on the most exquisite horizon, I can’t help but wonder…is it enough?”_

Theodore looked up from his journal, balancing a pen between his fingers like a cigarette as he reached up to lower his sunglasses just enough to see over top of them. In the distance he could just make out Draco’s form, his blond head – a beacon in the shadows cast by light. Theodore smiled and dropped his pen into the center of his journal and folded it closed, setting it on the side table as he slid out of his lounger and took a few steps toward the edge of the deck. He watched with a faint twist of lips as Draco stood as near to the water as he would ever get, arms crossed across his chest and fair hair caught with a light breeze. Years had bled through their fingertips like sand in an hourglass and here they were, woke smack in the middle of adulthood. It is with practiced silence that Theodore reaches into his pocket; carefully sliding out an engraved silver cigarette case that Draco had gifted him for Christmas several years back. That cerulean gaze never left Draco as they stood in their respective posts, apart and yet still, somehow, together.

 

Draco felt the subtle pull on his soul long before he turned around. It wasn’t anything more than a shifting of molecules but still he _knew_ that he was being watched. _Theodore._ Draco smiled to himself and let his eyes fall closed, inhaling the salty air in deeply through his nose. Smoothed sand warmed his toes and kept him centered, despite his current closeness to the ocean. There was a time when Draco would have protested loudly at the mere idea of being dragged to a place like this, but these days the call of the water felt like home. Draco sighed softly, his arms tightening marginally around his own form. Somehow, despite all of the odds stacked against him, Draco had managed to do all right for himself. There were missteps, of course, but that was always to be expected from the cruelty of life unexpected. He had experienced anger and heartbreak and war and even death. But he had also experienced love and happiness and a completeness that he never dared dream about as a child. Draco turned and gazed up at the ardent beach house they had secured for the weekend, spotting Theodore watching him from the deck, faint tendrils of whitish smoke curling up over his head. He smiled and unfolded his arms, glancing to the water one more time before turning and heading back towards the house. “I’m surprised you didn’t join me.” He said with a laugh as he climbed the stairs that led up to the deck, crossing the vast planked space towards Theodore.

 

Theodore smiled and reached up, parted fingers sliding around the cigarette dangling from his lips, that he paused to inhale from before pulling it away. “I knew you’d come back to me when you were finished.” He said with a smile, turning towards Draco and carefully fitting the lit cigarette between the blonde’s lips.

 

Draco emitted a soft, close-lipped chuckle and wound an arm around Theodore, the other hand reaching up to tend to the cigarette. “Like a dog on a leash.” He murmured with just a subtle arch of his brow.

 

Theodore’s mouth quirked with a smirk and he leaned forward, pressing himself firmly against Draco. “Mm, that can be arranged.” He replied cheekily, offering a more prominent brow raise right back.

 

Draco mirrored his smirk as he inhaled from the cigarette, tipping his head back for a moment before leaning down close. Theodore’s head tipped back this time and his lips parted, willingly sucking in the smoke that transferred from one set of lungs to the other. Draco chased the shotgun with a kiss without so much as a breath of air between them, his tongue tracing along the seam of Theodore’s mouth and his teeth catching the corner of his bottom lip as smoke curled from his nose. Draco Malfoy had been snogging Theodore Nott for years but somehow, every time felt like the first time.

 

When they parted Draco was breathless and Theodore grinned. “Just think of it as an early birthday present.” He said with a little laugh that Draco found undeniably adorable.

 

Draco snorted and tilted his head slightly to the left. “For whom?” He asked, wearing the type of smirk that made Theodore’s heart flutter in his chest.

 

In the absence of words, only the union of lips and tongue was left. This could have been any day, plucked from within the vast libraries of Draco’s memories at random. His life as he knew it had been re-written; edited and re-edited until the final print was ready for copy. Standing there like that, basking in a love that would always bend but never break, was something that he’d grown accustomed to. So much so that it was easy to forget that it had ever been any other way at all. Theodore had changed his life, long before they’d ever met as children. Two souls born from one, destined to be drawn to one another, no matter the odds.

 

Draco stubbed out the cigarette in a cut glass ashtray and took Theodore’s hand, leading him back to the previously abandoned lounger. He dropped down and stretched out, motioning up at Theodore to join him. Draco’s arms circled the other man and held him close, lazily resting his head atop a halo of espresso colored curls and staring out at the sea. “What if we never leave?” He’d been asking Theodore the same question on every corner of the earth for as long as they’d been together. The truth was, everywhere was home with him.

 

Theodore smiled and his eyes shuttered as he lay against Draco’s shoulder, his sun-kissed skin was warm and comforting against Theo’s cheek. He would be lying if he said he’d never thought about taking Draco up on his offers and leaving London for good. Theodore would follow Draco to the ends of the world if need be but he’d left London for good once before, and it had cost him dearly. Being the deity of poise that she was, London had accepted him back with open arms and had even gifted him with a happy little niche to call his own. He’d traveled the world with his best friend. He’d been tattooed in Bali and fucked under the stars on American soil. He’d climbed the highest mountains and swam in the bluest oceans and through it all he’d realized that London was as much a part of him as he of she. London is where he married his best friend and also where his son and his husband were [most of the time]. Theodore had tempted fate and still he felt as if his life had been blessed by the gods and he had no idea how he was even worthy of such a thing. “We always do,” he replied finally, his tone quiet and far away.

 

Draco smiled and shifted onto his side, tightening the circle of his arms and bringing Theodore closer. “It’s our nature, I suppose.” He said with a soft kiss against Theodore’s temple that caused the immediate area to flush a faint pink.

 

Theodore gazed up at Draco and returned the smile. “When we’re too old to keep running, that is where we will land.” He propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over Draco, easing him back onto the lounge chair with a smirk and a brush of lips.

 

Draco considered Theo’s words for a moment, a miniscule twitch of lips the only indication that he was inclined to agree. Their positions shifted again and Theodore was sliding a bent knee over his middle and straddling him, fingertips plying Draco’s bare skin firmly. Draco does not protest any of this, seen in the easy way his hands rested on Theodore’s hips and the subtle streak of adoration that was always there, interwoven in his slate gaze. This particular trip may have been Draco’s doing, but it was Theodore who was _really_ in charge – and Draco adored that too.

 

For all of his impatient insistence, Theodore takes his time with Draco because time is all they have left. Each subtle brush of lips, every caress, carefully timed against action and reaction. Deft fingers carefully ease the buttons from their silken cages with a practiced precision that only comes with time. Even after all this time, Draco’s milky skin is breathtaking and Theodore inhales sharply as he parts the fabric of the loose cotton shirt he wore, fingertips smoothing over pale flesh.

 

Draco leans the back of his head against the lounger and closes his eyes, allowing Theodore’s actions to wash over him in the form of a pink flush that slowly creeps up his sides, mottling everything in its path. “Mm,” He hums under his breath, fingers curling into the tight fitted waistband of Theodore’s jeans and tugging him more firmly against his front. No matter how much time passed between them, Draco would never tire of these moments – the ones where it _truly_ was just Draco and just Theodore.

 

Theodore’s hands were on the move again, no longer satisfied with basking in the beauty of the skin newly afforded him, pushing Draco’s wrinkled shirt over his shoulders and impatiently working the stupid leather belt that he never seemed able to go without. “This fucking thing is a cock block. Literally.” He hisses as he carefully slides the long strip of supple leather from its belt loops and drops it on the deck, where it clatters unforgotten.

 

Draco laughs and flashes the fondest smile – the one that is reserved _specifically_ for Theodore Nott-Malfoy, as it were. “But worth the wait?” Draco asks, a single blond brow arched knowingly. While Theodore fiddles with the fastenings of his trousers Draco takes the opportunity to slip his hands beneath the hem of the worm out (and much too holey to be considered a wearable garment at all) Joy Division t shirt he wore, inching it up over the smooth lines of his abdomen with another approving sigh. Theodore would always be perfect in Draco’s eyes, just as he would always be the only thing that Theodore saw – it was their way. He stretched up and pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the small curved scar near Theodore’s hipbone, thumb stroking over the slightly raised skin reverently; lovingly. “Seems like only yesterday, doesn’t it?” He asks, divesting the brunet of his shirt and adding it to the ever-growing pile of discarded items on the deck.

 

They were no longer the Draco and Theodore of days past – the two vagabonds traversing the world with no rules and even fewer boundaries. They were older now, wiser. They were best friends who had found their happy ever after in each other and there would never be a day when either one of them didn’t say a silent little prayer of gratitude to fate herself for deeming them worthy.

 

Theodore had finally managed to work free Draco’s trousers and his hand slid right down the front, cerulean eyes flashing up to meet Draco’s smirking slate ones upon realization that the blond was not wearing underpants. “Someone came prepared.” He laughed breathlessly, fingers wrapping around his prize and giving it an experimental stroke. Draco’s lips twitched and he arched into the touch, which had Theodore biting down on his bottom lip. He shifted, sliding down on Draco’s stretched out legs far enough to work his trousers down far enough that they could be kicked away. “Much better,” he murmured, quickly standing up and peeling off his own jeans and letting them fall so he could step out of them easily.

 

Draco watched him intently as he moved, slate eyes darkening to the color of chips of charcoal. He would never tire of this show – not as long as he lived. “Come here,” he says with a crooked finger, beckoning Theodore back to him and smirking when he is met with compliance.

 

Theodore slides a bent knee back over Draco and slowly lowers himself to the blonde’s lap, the warm brush of skin upon skin sending tiny fizzles of desire through every part of him. Fingers slide over heated flesh and Theodore leans forward enough to stall words in Draco’s throat with an all-encompassing kiss. So many years they have amassed with one another that this is all second nature. Draco knows Theodore’s body like it is his own personal instrument to play however he saw fit, but that doesn’t lessen the coil of greed and want he feels tightening inside of him as a tongue slides over his teeth.

 

Draco groans softly when Theodore grinds shamelessly in his lap and then they share a laugh and come together like it was always meant to be.

 

Later still, Draco will fold Theodore up in the arms of his embrace and they will watch the sunset while eating chocolate French pastries and smoking all of Theodore’s cigarettes. They have been playing this game for so long that Draco has reached a crossroads. He had spent decades picking out careful and perfect birthday gifts for Theodore, and this year is no different. “Your gift didn’t fit in my pocket this year.” He says lazily, fingertips tracing idle patterns on Theodore’s bare skin.

 

“Oh?” Theodore asks, mildly curious as to what it was. “Mm.” Draco hummed noncommittally and held out his hand, muttering a quiet summoning spell that brought a scroll of parchment zooming from the bedroom straight into his waiting hand. He glanced up at Theodore and smiled, kissing the messy curls atop his head before pressing the scroll into his hand. “Happy birthday, Theodore.” He whispers, and then he watches the brunet carefully as he breaks the seal and un-scrolls the parchment.

 

It takes Theodore a minute to realize what the scroll is and when he does; his eyes widen and dart back to Draco. “You bought me a house?” He asked incredulously, sitting up and reaching for a pair of reading glasses that he was constantly trying to pretend he didn’t need, sliding them on and giving the scroll another proper once over. “Not just any house.” Draco says casually, a cryptic smile twisting his lips. Tiny crops of goosebumps raze the surface of Theodore’s skin as he sits there, staring at Draco in awe. He had no idea how Draco managed to pull this off, year after year after fucking year. Just when Theodore finally thinks he can’t top himself Draco busts out with something bigger and better and more personal than the year before.

 

_Good Godric did he love this man._

 

Draco pulls Theodore to him and rests his forehead against the brunet, a soft smile on his mouth. “What if we never leave?” He asks, in a mimic of his earlier statement. This beach house was just one of many locales the pair had inhabited over the years – there wasn’t a previous symbolic moment attached to it beyond old familiarity - But now Draco had gone and changed everything and this house was suddenly the most important house in the world. “You’re far too good to me.” Theodore says some time later, head resting on Draco’s shoulders as they gazed up at the infinite sky above. So much time – so many years they’d spent together. Theodore could feel every one of them clear down to his soul and he smiled and felt ridiculously loved.

 

_Happy birthday, Theodore._


	14. 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Theodore, Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure this chapter was even going to happen, but here we are and I couldn't be happier. Can you believe it's been another year already, where does the time go?!?
> 
> Here's to another year of the beauty that is our lovely boys. I know I probably fudged up all of our intricately constructed timelines with the facts in this chapter, but once I started writing it, I couldn't help myself. Endless thanks to my bestie, my cheerleader, and my cohort in literary crime, Unkissed. This *literally* could not have happened without you. <3

The room is still shrouded in darkness when he wakes, as if some internal alarm was prodding him to open his eyes. Draco blinked in the darkness, the cloudiness of sleep slowly ebbing away with each heavy exhale that escaped softly from between parted lips. Theodore was curled against his side in the bend of his arm and he smiled to himself and traced the side of his finger along the length of the other man’s arm. Because they are so attuned to one another, Theodore had already began to stir and Draco’s touch pulled a sleepy-soft groan from him.

 

Draco’s smirk is lost in the shadows as he drops his head to the side and presses his lips into messy, dark hair. “Happy birthday,” he whispered quietly as their heads came to rest against one another, his eyes shuttering silently.

 

Theodore managed a dry laugh and pressed in closer to the blond, stretching himself along Draco’s side and draping an arm across his abdomen lazily, protectively. “You could have waited for a decent hour,” Theodore replied as his head cocked to the side, listening. “It’s early, and _quiet_ ,” he said to himself, as if only just processing this information.

 

Suddenly, this all made perfect sense.

 

“Observant as always,” Draco chimed in, giving the brunet’s arm another graze with his fingertips, blunt nails gliding gently over his skin. Theodore snorted and opened his mouth to make a rude comment but Draco was quick to shush him with a warning pinch.

 

“Silence is golden,” he whispered as he rolled over, effortlessly hoisting himself up and over top of Theodore, who had flattened back against the mattress in anticipation. Theodore’s palms flattened against the richly delineated lines of Draco’s back, sliding up and over warm skin and circling his neck, pulling him closer – _closer_. “Golden,” he whispered against Draco’s mouth, everything else melting away. Draco’s kisses had always been his weakness – the way he molded his mouth over Theo’s and plundered him so effortlessly, so _totally_ , as if his very life depended on it, was one of his very favorite things in his entire fucking world.

 

Draco’s fingertips traced along his collarbone and down the center of his chest and Theodore shuddered, lashes fluttering – kissing faintly flushed cheeks as he nipped at the blonde’s lips in a vain attempt to keep quiet. Draco chuckled softly into his mouth as the pad of his thumb swirled around the edge of his navel, those maddening fingertips still on the move. Theodore arched up against him shamelessly as Draco’s hand inched beneath the drawstring waist of his pajama pants, brushing along his length, teasingly. Despite his very best efforts Theodore just couldn’t keep quiet and the tiniest whimper of frustration and approval escaped him. It was his birthday, he was allowed. Draco was right there, shushing him with another kiss and the softest stroke of a tongue when it happened…

 

Theodore froze as a sliver of light suddenly shot across the blackened ceiling of the bedroom, fingers rigid in Draco’s hair as that sliver grew and grew, bathing a good portion of the room in warm light.

 

“HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPYYYYYYYY BIRTHDAY!”

 

Neither man should have been surprised by the sudden interruption, and they weren’t, not really. Life with a toddler was unpredictable at best and Theodore could only smile like an idiot as a fuzzy, platinum blonde head came streaking into the room from the open doorway and belly flopped right onto the bed beside them. Draco chuckled under his breath as his forehead dropped against Theodore’s shoulder, head shaking fondly. “To be continued,” he whispered against Theo’s ear, imparting a fleeting kiss and sliding his hand out of the other man’s pants before he turned his head to peer down at the tiny boy flopping around beside them. “Good morning to you too,” he said with a sniff, feigning hurt like a pro.

 

Scorpius’ pale blue eyes widened and his tiny little mouth turned down into a frown. “I love you too Daddy, don’t worry.” He patted Draco’s hand and smiled and then he was on the move again, scrambling around on the bed and climbing right onto Draco’s back and flatting him self around like an octopus. Theodore, who was trapped at the bottom of this impromptu, birthday-style dog pile, could only laugh as he reached around Draco to ruffle the little boy’s blonde head. “Thanks, kiddo,” he said, gently patting his back and letting his palm rest there. “It’s like an extra big hug,” said Scorpius between giggles and nuzzling his face in the back of Draco’s head.

 

“Alright, come here you,” Draco shifted just enough to get a hold of Scorpius, who squealed in delight as he was lifted up into his father’s arms.

 

Draco lie back down beside Theodore and dropped Scorpius between them. “Much better,” he muttered, tugging the covers back up just a bit. “Daddy, we can’t sleep now!” Scorpius huffed, flopping his arms on top of the thick blanket and scowling. “It’s Uncle Theo’s birthday and we need a special birthday breakfast.” Scorpius said all of this as if it should have been plainly obvious and was putting him out a great deal just to say– a trait that was _definitely_ genetic. Draco snorted out an amused laugh and rolled his eyes, head shaking slowly. “Oh, well, excuse me, I wasn’t aware that you had it all planned out for us.” Draco shot Theodore a knowing smirk over the top of Scorpius’ head and Theodore grinned, his gaze falling to the child nestled between them and instantly softening.

 

Never in a million years could Theodore _ever_ have imagined that he would find himself where he was now. Somehow, despite all of the odds, he’d managed to find his own little corner of happily ever after. He didn’t know how it had happened, and he sometimes felt as if he certainly did not deserve it, but as he gazed down at this child – this child who’s very existence had irrevocably changed _so_ many lives – he knew that there was nothing else that he wanted more. From the ashes of their childhoods Draco and Theodore had risen and taken shape and now here they were, sharing adulthood and parenthood and just… _living._ All of these things, the irreplaceable little moments that Theodore held most dear, were more than any birthday gift ever could be – they weren’t _just_ gifts, and he refused to let any of them go ever again.

 

Theodore snapped out of his reverie a bit misty eyed and he smiled bashfully and jammed his knuckles into the corners of his eyes, willing the faint sting to cease. Scorpius and Draco were in a heated discussion about acceptable toppings for waffles and Theodore held up his hand and shook his head, most seriously. “Nah uh, it’s _my_ birthday and I would like chocolate croissants and chocolate cake and chocolate coffee – not in that order.” Two sets of identical slate colored eyes peered at him intently. “What? I like chocolate.” He replied with a shrug, which earned him a grin and a giggle from Scorpius and a knowing smirk from his father. “Really, we had no idea,” Draco said as his fingertips ghosted along Theodore’s arm – which quelled any retort the brunet might have been tempted to make.

 

Draco searched Theodore’s gaze for a long moment before he smiled again, his gaze averting to the child between them. “Shall we go to the kitchen?” he asked, arching a brow down at his son. Scorpius squealed and scrambled to his feet, bouncing impatiently on the mattress as Draco slid out of bed. “Hurry daddy, hurry!” he said, raised arms wiggling wildly to be picked up. Draco scooped him up in his arms and headed towards the door, pausing to smile over his shoulder at Theodore, who stayed behind in bed. “We’ll be back,” he winked, chuckling fondly all the way down the hall after Scorpius instructed Theodore to “wait right there” as they exited the bedroom.

 

When he was alone, Theodore heaved a contented sigh and tossed the covers back from the bed, sitting up and scratching absently at the back of his head as he simultaneously stretched and yawned. He could hear clanking coming from down the hall in the kitchen and he smiled to himself as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He crossed the room to a small table, where he grabbed a box of cigarettes and Draco’s discarded sweater from the night before. Theodore tugged the soft, cashmere jumper over his head and curled his fingers into the hem of the sleeve, pressing it against his nose and inhaling the faint scent of Draco’s cologne, which still clung to its fibers. He walked barefoot over to the French doors and quietly opened one up, stepping out onto the balcony. He lit a cigarette as he crossed over to the railing, bending over to rest an elbow and exhaling slowly. He smoked in silence and watched the sun begin to peek over the horizon, mouth curved into a faint smile as he wrapped himself up tighter in Draco’s sweater. Over the years, his birthday had become one of Theodore’s very favorite days of the year, thanks in no small part to the man that was currently in the kitchen making him a _special birthday breakfast_ with their son. _Their_ son. Sometimes that still made Theodore’s knees buckle just to think about. Technically speaking, he and Draco were not yet married, but that had never mattered to any of them. It had been made clear from the beginning that he was just as much a part of raising Scorpius as any of them were and now, after just five fleeting years, this tiny human had managed to worm his way into Theodore’s very soul.

 

_Just like his father._

Theodore found Draco and Scorpius in the kitchen a short while later, pausing in the doorway and leaning against its frame, watching his little family. Scorpius was standing on a long stretch of marble countertop slightly bent over, palms resting on his knees as he watched Draco stir a large bowl of batter intently, scrutinizing him whenever he missed a ‘lump’. Theodore covered his mouth with a sweater-ensconced hand and chuckled quietly to himself, head shaking fondly.

 

_Sweet Merlin, did he love these two._

 

Figuring he should make his presence known, Theodore took a step into the kitchen and announced his arrival. “I smell coffee,” he said with a grin in Draco’s direction. Scorpius’ head snapped up and he gasped and pointed a stubby finger right at Theo. “You’re not supposed to see the food before you eat it!” He practically shouted, looking dreadfully serious about the entire ordeal.

 

Draco glanced up at his son who was hovering over him and arched a curious brow, lips twitching with a smirk. “I think you’re getting your traditions mixed up,” Draco said, clearly amused.

 

Scorpius’ gaze moved between Draco and Theo, as if he was contemplating his next response beforehand. _Definitely_ a Malfoy. “That’s more of a marriage tradition,” Theodore explained as he walked into the kitchen fully, rounding the counter and scooping the boy up in his arms on the way to the coffee pot. Scorpius’ arms wound around his neck and he peered down at Theodore curiously. “To not see your food before you eat it?” He asked, and he was so fucking serious that Theodore had to work overtime not to laugh outright. “No, baby,” he said with an errant chuckle as he shifted Scorpius into one arm and poured himself a cup of coffee with the other. “It’s an old muggle tradition not to see the person you marry before the ceremony.”

 

Theodore’s explanation seemed to satisfy Scorpius who fell silent for a moment. He carried the boy and his mug back towards Draco, who was preparing to pour batter onto a waffle griddle. Theodore leaned in to kiss him briefly, resting a hip against the counter and watching him work.

 

Despite his privileged upbringing, Draco was rather adept in the kitchen and tended to be the one, more often than not, who spent the most time in there. He leaned over to kiss Theodore back and then turned his attention to Scorpius, who still seemed a bit quiet. “You want to help pour?” He asked his son, who gazed up at him with an owlishly large gaze. “If you and Uncle Theo get married, does that mean we can’t see him?”

 

The question caught both men slightly off guard and Draco blinked at his son for a long moment before he shook his head and set down the ladle he had been holding. “Is that what you’re so quiet about?” Draco asked as he reached out to ruffle Scorpius’ head fondly. “ _When_ Theo and I get married, you have nothing to worry about.” he corrected gently, lips twitching with a smirk as Theodore’s eyes flashed.

 

Scorpius gasped and his tiny little mouth curved into a perfect little ‘o’ shape. “You’re getting married!” He shouted loudly, which he promptly followed with an equally loud squeal.

 

Theodore paled slightly and glanced between father and son, not saying a word. He knew when to keep his mouth shut and that time was now.

 

Draco chuckled under his breath and shook his head, gaze still on his son. “Of course we are,” he said, steely gaze flicking up to meet Theodore’s, questioningly. “That is, if he’ll have me.” Draco added, the faintest hint of a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

 

Theodore stood there for a good handful of seconds before his mouth slowly opened and he blinked, mouth promptly closing again. Had Draco just proposed in the most _Draco_ way possible? He swallowed thickly and tried again, willing words to come out of his mouth. “You bet your sweet arse he’ll have you,” is what eventually came out, and when Scorpius gasped and covered his mouth, clearly scandalized by the naughty word, both men laughed in unison. Draco leaned over and kissed Theodore again, softer this time – lingering. He smiled and picked up his ladle once more, dipping it into the thick batter. “So, do you want to help pour?” He asked Scorpius again, who was scrambling out of Theodore’s arms and back up onto the counter. “You bet your sweet arse I do!” Scorpius replied with a wicked little gleam in his eye that should have worried them both.

 

 

Later, after he had spent the day frolicking in the ocean and eating chocolate cake with Scorpius and lying on a blanket in the sand and reading Oscar Wilde with Draco, Theodore would find himself back on the balcony, cigarette caught between his fingers as he watched the last of the sun slowly disappear beyond the horizon. Like those before it, this birthday had been one to remember. He had long ago given up thinking that Draco couldn’t possibly top the year before because somehow, the blond still managed to surprise him, year after year.

 

It is later still, when Draco slips into their bedroom and quietly shuts the door, having just come from getting Scorpius off to sleep. “How’d it go?” Theodore asked, glancing up as Draco joined him on the patio, offering him a fond smile. “I don’ t know why he won’t just let us read Goodnight Moon, like every other kid on the fucking planet.” Draco was grumbling, but it was all for show. It didn’t matter that Scorpius had more of a fondness for mystery novels and poetry than he did regular children’s books, he wouldn’t trade that kid for the entire world.

  
Theodore just grinned knowingly and nuzzled against Draco’s arm as he stepped into place beside him and wrapped an arm around his middle. “But,” Draco added, side eyeing him. “He _is_ asleep.” Draco’s eyes flashed with that old familiar mischief and Theodore nodded approvingly as he reached up to press his half-smoked cigarette between Draco’s waiting lips. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s middle and rested his head against his shoulder, sighing softly as they shared the remainder of the cigarette and stared up at the stars.

 

Draco reached into his pocket and fished out a small, ornately carved silver band that would serve as a placeholder for something more permanent. “I think I owe you one of these,” he said as he took Theodore’s hand and slowly slid the delicate ring onto his finger. Theodore’s heart immediately began hammering in his chest and he sucked in a sharp breath, fingers shaking as he turned in towards Draco and threw his arms around the blonde’s neck. “Merlin, I fucking love you,” he breathed, promptly crashing their mouths together in a perfectly messy kiss.

 

When they broke apart Theodore was flushed and unable to quell the large smile that was making his cheeks ache. He hugged Draco tightly and held out his hand behind the blonde’s back, admiring the simple yet beautiful piece of jewelry that stood out on his finger like a beacon of everything that the two of them ever would and could be. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured in Draco’s ear, pulling back to eye him intently – searching his gaze in quiet amazement.

 

Draco’s mouth curved into another smirk and he reached up between them, brushing aside strands of espresso colored hair that were shielding his view of those disarming blue eyes. “I still have one more present for you,” he said with a quirk of his brow, and when he took Theodore’s hand and led him into the bedroom, Theodore knew that this was _definitely_ the best birthday ever.

 

Until next year…


End file.
